Judgment at Proteus

FOUR

The nearest security nexus was ten floors directly above the medical dome. We arrived to find a full-scale search operation already in progress.

{There continues to be no response from his comm,} a jumpsuited patroller standing by the door reported as Emikai escorted Bayta and me into the room and over to a bank of monitors that stretched all the way up one wall and angled onto part of the ceiling.

{Keep trying,} Emikai ordered. “He is still not answering his comm,” he translated for my benefit.

I nodded, looking over the monitors. About half the screens were cycling through visual images of important offices or key intersections, but most of the displays seemed to be readouts of environmental, power, or equipment usage. I spotted two different views of our Alpine medical dome go by in the rotation, one apparently from just above each of the two corridors leading into it. “Do you keep records of any of these images?” I asked.

“For one hour only,” Emikai said. “Under the Slisst Protocols, anything more is considered a violation of privacy.”

“That’s unfortunate,” I murmured. But probably very convenient for the Shonkla-raa as they scurried around on whatever nefarious schemes they were up to aboard the station. An excellent reason all by itself for Proteus’s directors to have adopted the Protocols. “I guess we’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way, then,” I continued. “We know Minnario was in the security station with me when our torchferry docked. We start by talking to everyone who was also there at that time, from Chinzro Hchchu on down, and try to track his movements.”

“That is already being done,” Emikai said, pointing to a display filled with Fili characters. “That is a list of those who have been spoken to, plus summaries of their testimonies to the patrollers. But it has already been over four hours since our arrival, and the trail has started to go dry. Many of the relevant personnel have dispersed to evening meals and quarters.”

“Unless the Human expert wishes to offer a better method?” a sarcastic voice suggested from behind me.

I turned. It was Usantra Wandek, working his way toward us through the crowd of Jumpsuits. His blaze was showing the same odd mottling I’d seen during our earlier conversation down in the medical dome. “Greetings, Usantra Wandek,” I said, nodding to him. “Did someone call for medical assistance?”

“The Nemut has a long list of medical problems,” he said grimly. “His disappearance strongly implies one or more of those problems may have intensified.” He cocked his head. “But my question was serious. Have you any better options to suggest?”

“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “If you’re going to set a trap, at least make it an interesting one. I was an Intelligence agent—of course I know about the locator transponders in most comms. I also know where they’re located, how they function, and how to disable them.” And, I didn’t add, routinely did so, dropping my comm and Bayta’s out of the system whenever we looked to be going into danger. “And since Minnario apparently hasn’t been located that way, I presume his locator was in fact disabled. Logra Emikai?”

“You are correct,” Emikai acknowledged.

“The more interesting question,” I went on, watching Wandek closely, “is whether Usantra Wandek is suggesting I might have done away with my own lawyer. What reason could I possibly have for doing such a thing?”

“Who knows how Humans think?” Wandek countered, the mottling of his blaze intensifying a bit. The effect was oddly hypnotic. “More importantly, there can be only a handful of individuals on the station who have the knowledge and skill to disable the transponder.”

“Really?” I looked at Emikai. “How many of the patrollers aboard Proteus have that skill?”

“I would guess between one and ten percent,” Emikai said. “I believe many communications techs would also possess the necessary knowledge.”

“There you go,” I said to Wandek. “Ten percent of the patrollers on a station this size means we’re talking hundreds or thousands of people. And that’s just the Filiaelians.”

“Do you accuse one of us?” Wandek demanded stiffly.

“I accuse everyone, and I accuse no one,” I said. “It’s no different than a doctor who suspects all illnesses until he’s narrowed down the list of possibilities.”

“Perhaps,” Wandek said reluctantly. “Just be certain that your list of possibilities include all aboard Kuzyatru Station, and not merely the Filiaelians.” He turned to Emikai. “I assume you are in charge of this investigation. How do you intend to proceed?”

I looked at Emikai in mild surprise. “You’re in charge here?”

“Chinzro Hchchu has assigned me to supervise all matters concerning you and your pending case,” Emikai explained. “Since Attorney Minnario is with you, his disappearance falls within my authority.”

“So what do we do?” I asked. “Because Usantra Wandek is correct: if Minnario’s lying injured off in some corner, his physical problems could make his situation critical.”

Emikai gave a whinnying sigh. “Unfortunately, the tools at our disposal are severely limited,” he said. “None of the monitors shows his location, we have no recordings of his movements, and so far no one interviewed remembers seeing him after his departure from the security office over two hours ago.”

“What about DNA sniffers?” I suggested. “Surely you still have the records from when he entered Proteus Station.”

“That has already been tried,” one of the Jumpsuits said in badly accented English. “There is insufficient remaining nucleic in the security station.”

“The air in Kuzyatru Station is cleaned as it is recirculated,” Emikai explained. “That limits the usefulness of nucleic sniffers.”

Another nice bonus for the Shonkla-raa. “Then we need to focus the search in the most likely places for him to have gone,” I said. “In order, I would guess those to be places where he could get food or rest, look up the details of the Slisst Protocols, or get medical attention.”

“What would he wish with the Protocols?” Wandek asked.

“He needs to know how the Proteus legal structure will affect our defense,” I said.

“Your analysis makes sense,” Emikai said, gesturing to the Jumpsuit at the monitor bank. {Institute a search of Mr. Compton’s suggested target areas.}

{I obey.} The Jumpsuit swiveled back to his board and began speaking rapid Fili into a microphone.

“Have you any other thoughts?” Emikai asked.

I hesitated. This one, I knew, was not going to go over well. “We also need to consider motive,” I said. “Specifically, who would benefit from Minnario’s disappearance.”

To my mild surprise, Emikai was already ahead of me. “You thus name Chinzro Hchchu,” he said calmly.

I heard the faint whisper of a dozen necks against jumpsuit collars as every nearby Filly turned toward us. “According to the Slisst Protocols, he’s the one who’ll be prosecuting me,” I pointed out for their benefit. “There are any number of reasons why he might want to delay the proceedings.”

“What about your reasons?” Wandek put in.

“Such as?” I asked.

“I am told you were reluctant to attend this evening’s preliminary hearing,” Wandek said. “That hearing has now been unavoidably postponed.”

“Pretty weak motive, if you ask me,” I said. “Especially since the reason for my reluctance was that my assistant Bayta wouldn’t be permitted to attend with me.” I gestured toward Emikai. “And given that I’ve been under direct observation since I first learned about the hearing, it would have been well-nigh impossible for me to have done anything to him.”

“Perhaps Attorney Minnario informed you ahead of the official notification,” Wandek suggested darkly. “Perhaps you called for a meeting to discuss the matter, and you”—he threw a look at Bayta—“and your assistant then disposed of him.”

“No,” Emikai said flatly.

Wandek’s blaze went all mottled again. “No?” he echoed. “You dare—?”

“They have not been alone aboard Kuzyatru Station.” Emikai pointed at Doug and Ty. “Ever.”

Wandek looked at the watchdogs, his expression and posture reminiscent of a schooner that’s just had all the wind knocked out of its sails. “Oh,” he said in a suddenly subdued voice. “No, of course not.”

“The msikai-dorosli would not permit them to harm another being,” Emikai went on, in case Wandek hadn’t fully grasped the point. “Chinzro Hchchu would have ordered them—”

{Yes, yes, I understand,} Wandek snapped. {Don’t belabor the point.}

{My apologies, Usantra Wandek,} Emikai said.

Apparently, the words weren’t enough. Wandek’s hand twitched imperiously, and Emikai bowed his head toward the other. {My apologies,} he repeated.

“If you two can stop babbling a minute, can we get on with this?” I put in. Watching Emikai grovel in front of Wandek was nearly as irritating as Wandek making him do it. “My attorney’s missing. I’d kind of like someone to find him.”

They were still at it an hour later when my growling stomach finally forced me to go with Bayta in search of food. Fortunately, the security nexus included a station with a selection of quick foods available for the duty personnel. I decided Bayta and I qualified, and we had a quick meal there before returning to the monitor room.

Three hours later, when I finally gave up, they still hadn’t found Minnario.

* * *

The door to Bayta’s room was still keyed to both our DNA signatures. I opened the door, turned on the lights, and gave the room a quick scan as we walked in. Bayta’s luggage had been delivered and was set neatly at the foot of the bed, but aside from that everything was just the way we’d left it. “What do you think happened to him?” Bayta asked quietly as I closed the door and locked it.

“Nothing good,” I said, crossing to the half-bath and peeking inside. It, too, appeared untouched. “I just wish I knew how they could have gotten to him without someone seeing it and coming forward.”

“Maybe whoever saw his abduction or disappearance didn’t realize the significance at the time,” she suggested as she walked over to the bed and stood beside it.

“Maybe,” I said. There was considerably more I wanted to say, facts and speculation both, and from the look on Bayta’s face I could tell she was equally eager to have that same discussion. But this was the room that had been prepared for us, in all senses of that word, and neither of us was interested in having that conversation where little pitchers with big ears would undoubtedly be listening in. “We can hope so, anyway. Well. Good night, I guess.”

“Good night, Frank,” Bayta said.

For a long moment we just gazed across the room at each other. We’d said these same good-nights a thousand times before, and for most of those nights it had been a routine and largely meaningless ritual.

But not tonight. Tonight a Nemut was missing from Proteus Station, with every evidence of foul play. Tonight we were a long ways away from the Tube, with its multitude of Spiders and its weapon-free environment.

And tonight we weren’t going to be sharing a double Quadrail compartment with nothing but a collapsible divider separating us. We were going to be half a kilometer apart, with neither of us able to quickly come to the other’s aid if any of that foul play headed in our direction.

I wanted to say the hell with this, to just lock the door and settle down here for the night where I could protect Bayta while she in turn watched my back. But I didn’t dare. We were already too emotionally close for comfort, and the Modhri was just waiting for his chance to ensnare us.

And if he got me, I would rather die than be the conduit through which he also got Bayta.

So I nodded a last farewell and stepped out into the hallway, Doug padding out beside me. I waited there until I heard the snick of the inner lock, then headed through the quiet corridors toward my own distant quarters.

Most of the space stations I’d visited over my career with Westali had run on a more or less round-the-clock schedule, with a noticeable drop in traffic and activity after midnight but nothing even approaching a complete halt. Proteus Station was different. The corridors were largely deserted as I walked along them, with only the jumpsuited patrollers still out and about. The lights were noticeably dimmer than they’d been when Bayta and I had left the security nexus, but they’d faded gradually enough that I hadn’t really noticed until Doug and I were on the glideway and I realized that I couldn’t make out the same details at the far end that I had when traveling this route earlier that afternoon. I assumed the station’s schedule was set to mimic that of the Fillies’ homeworld, but that was only a guess and with my reader locked up a quarter of the station away there was no way to look that up until I got back to my room and fired up the computer there.

I spent most of the trip trying to think up a fresh approach to finding Minnario. But it had been a long, full day, and I couldn’t marshal enough brain cells to make even a dent in the problem. Maybe in the morning I would be able to think again.

Maybe in the morning Minnario would already be dead.

The receptionist station at the entrance to the medical dome was deserted. A few of the chalets were still showing lights, probably marking the presence of doctors or techs or maybe Shonkla-raa burning the midnight oil. The building where they’d been treating Terese was dark, and I briefly considered seeing if I could sneak inside.

But a closed building at night would almost certainly be on Doug’s forbidden list, and there were all those sharp teeth to consider. Besides, even if Doug didn’t have a problem with it, the two small cameras set on the dome’s inner walls just inside the corridors would hold the images of me breaking and entering for the next hour. With the search for Minnario presumably still going on, the chance that someone would notice me was probably higher than I wanted to risk.

And so I continued on through the dome without stopping. I did, however, make a few mental notes as to which windows in which buildings still showed lights.

I half expected my door to still be sealed, with the techs having forgotten to code the lock to my DNA. But if the renowned Filly efficiency couldn’t locate a lost Nemut, it was at least able to handle routine maintenance. The door opened at my touch on the plate, and I wearily stepped inside.

I was reaching for the light switch when I heard a soft grunt.

I took a long step to the side, out of the potentially lethal backlighting of the low glow from the corridor. Dropping into a combat stance, I tried to pierce the gloom in front of me.

And then, as the door slid closed, I caught a glimpse of something crouching motionlessly beside my bed.

I mouthed a curse, a flood of adrenaline kicking my brain back into gear. The light control was still within reach to my right—a flick of the switch and I would have all the light I needed to see who or what was waiting for me.

But for that first couple of seconds my dilated pupils would be momentarily blinded. If the intruder was ready for that, with optical filters or whatever, those couple of seconds could mean the difference between life and a very quick death. Doug was standing beside me, but his breathing was calm and rhythmic, with no sign of distress or extra alertness. No help for me there.

Or was there? If I picked him up and lobbed him across the room at the crouching figure, it might put the intruder out of action long enough for me to get my eyes adjusted and either jump him or get the hell out of the room. Silently, I squatted down and slid my arms around Doug’s torso—

[Hello?] a Nemuti voice called groggily from the direction of the squatting figure. [Hello? Is someone there?]

For a long moment I just crouched there, my mind spinning on its rails. Then, letting go of Doug, I straightened up again and flicked on the light.

Minnario was half sitting up in bed, one hand shading his squinting eyes against the sudden glare. The figure I’d thought I’d seen lurking beside the bed was nothing more sinister than his support chair. [Mr. Compton,] he said, and there was no mistaking the surprise in his voice. [What in the FarReach are you doing here?]

I took a deep breath and reached for my comm. “Someone’s been sleeping in my bed,” I murmured. “And he’s still here.”

* * *

[I’m so terribly sorry to have caused such distress,] Minnario apologized, his voice low and embarrassed as he looked around at me, Emikai, and the half-dozen Jumpsuits who had intruded upon his privacy. [I had no idea that I was even considered missing, let alone that foul play was suspected.]

“How did you get in here, anyway?” I asked. “I was told this was my room.”

[As was I,] Minnario said. [Which is what I then told the technician who was keying the lock when I arrived.]

“And it didn’t concern you that he was coding it to my nucleics?”

[I assumed you’d instructed him to do that so you would be able to enter for consultations without my having to come to the door to let you in.] He frowned. [Though now that I think about it, the tech did say something about me coming to visit you. I confess that I was so tired that the comment didn’t register at the time. I’m so very sorry to have caused such trouble.]

“It is not your fault,” Emikai assured him. He’d come charging into the room in response to my call looking both relieved and annoyed. Now, he just looked tired. “It will be straightened out in the morning.” He turned to one of the Jumpsuits. {Where can we assign Mr. Compton for the night?}

{There’s nothing available in this sector,} the other Filly said, punching keys on a reader. {I can try to find him something in one of the adjoining sectors.}

“There are no other empty rooms nearby,” Emikai translated for me. “Could you perhaps stay with Bayta? It would only be for the one night.”

“No problem,” I said. “In fact, forget about looking for something else. She and I will just share the room as originally planned.”

Emikai’s blaze paled a bit with obvious surprise. “I was told you wished your own quarters.”

I shrugged. “I’ve changed my mind.”

And to my own surprise, I realized that I had. That long, lonely walk from Bayta’s room to this one had finally solidified my misgivings about our forced separation, and I realized that the risk of deepening our emotional involvement was far less than the danger of splitting our forces in the middle of hostile territory. When the Shonkla-raa and Modhri decided to make their move, Bayta and I needed to be standing together as we faced it.

“Very well,” Emikai said, eyeing me another moment before turning to the Jumpsuit with the reader. {Log the fact that Mr. Compton now shares quarters with his assistant,} he ordered.

[A moment,] Minnario put in, reaching down and sweeping the blankets away from his useless legs. [At this point, I believe it would be easier for Mr. Compton and Bayta to move in here and for me to take the other room.]

“How exactly would that be easier?” I asked.

[Because this room is already set for your msikai-dorosli,] he said, pointing toward the closet. [It would be more trouble to collect and move it than for me to move myself and my few belongings.]

Frowning, I walked over to the closet and looked in. He was right: jammed into the narrow space were two long dog beds, plus bowls of water and food, plus a hefty bag of the latter over in the far corner.

It was only then that my preoccupied brain suddenly registered the fact that Doug was the only watchdog here with me. Ty, for some reason, had stayed behind with Bayta.

Ty, and all those sharp teeth …

I whipped out my comm and punched in Bayta’s number, my pulse hammering in my throat. “Yes?” Bayta answered.

“Are you all right?” I demanded, my voice harsher than I’d planned.

“I’m fine,” she assured me, her own voice going suddenly tight in reaction. “What’s the matter?”

I took a careful breath. “Nothing,” I said. “I just wanted to tell you we found Minnario. In my room. Rather, in our room—he’s decided to swap with you.”

There was a brief pause. “All right,” Bayta said, clearly having trouble following the half-story she was getting. “Do you want me to pack right now?”

“If you would,” I said. “Uh … how is Ty?”

“Ty?” she echoed, sounding confused.

“Yes,” I said. “Any problems with him?”

“No, nothing. Should there have been?”

“No, of course not,” I assured her. Only why the hell had he ended up staying with her instead of coming with Doug and me? “I’ll be over shortly to get you.”

“All right,” she said. “Good-bye.”

“Bye.”

I hung up and gestured to the watchdog supplies. “Was all this delivered after you arrived?” I asked Minnario.

[Actually, it was already here,] he said. He had eased himself into the chair while I’d been talking to Bayta, and now twisted the control that sent it rising smoothly to waist height on its thrusters. [I wondered about it, but again was too weary to make inquiries before turning off my comm and going to bed.]

“Speaking of your comm,” I said, “there’s supposed to be a tracker in it for police to use in case of emergency.”

[Yes—the location transponder,] Minnario said, nodding. [My comm did indeed come with such a device. But it unfortunately interfered with the control systems of my chair and I had to have it removed. Are you ready?]

I looked at Emikai, who gave a little shrug. “However you wish to arrange your sleeping quarters is of no matter to me or to Kuzyatru Station,” the Filly said. “But you should know that the preliminary hearing postponed from this evening has now been rescheduled for tomorrow at ten o’clock.”

I nodded. “Bayta and I will be there.”

Emikai seemed to brace himself. “Chinzro Hchchu has also ruled that your assistant is not permitted to attend.”

[Of course she may attend,] Minnario spoke up. [Not as Mr. Compton’s assistant, but as my chief witness of the events surrounding the charges against him. As such, she may attend all proceedings.]

I felt my cheeks warming. The most blatantly obvious logic possible, and I’d missed it completely.

So, apparently, had Emikai. “Ah,” he said, sounding as bemused as I felt. “Are you certain that is part of the Slisst Protocols?”

[Very certain,] Minnario said firmly. [As it happens, I happened to be studying that very section of the Protocols just before I settled down to sleep.]

“I see,” Emikai said. “I will be certain to bring that to Chinzro Hchchu’s attention.” He turned back to me. “A patroller will meet you here at nine o’clock to escort you to the hearing room.”

“I’d prefer that you come yourself,” I told him.

He seemed to measure me with his eyes. “As you wish,” he said. “I will meet you here then.” He looked at Minnario. “I presume you will be content with an ordinary patroller as your escort?”

[Quite content, thank you,] Minnario assured him. [But for now, I’m still very tired. If you’ll be good enough, Mr. Compton, to show me to my new quarters?]

* * *

Minnario’s chair couldn’t safely use the glideways, which meant we had to walk the normal corridor the entire way, which meant that it was another long and tiring hour before Bayta and I and my watchdogs—both of them this time—were finally in our new quarters.

Doug and Ty, at least, seemed pleased with the new arrangement. They made a joint beeline for the closet and food dishes, and a minute later the room was filled with the sound of chomping and slurping.

“Any idea why Ty decided to stay with you?” I asked Bayta as we watched them eat.

“No,” she said. “I suppose it’s possible that Chinzro Hchchu actually intended one of them to stay with each of us.”

“That wasn’t what it sounded like when he gave the orders,” I reminded her.

“Maybe there are nuances in his Fili that neither of us caught.”

“Maybe.” I looked at the bed, then headed for the couch. “I’ll be over here if you need me,” I said over my shoulder. “You can have first crack at the bathroom.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice oddly strained.

“Of course.” I tried to look her in the eye, but for some reason I was unable to do so. “Unless you had some different arrangement in mind.”

“No.” She paused. “But someone else apparently does. Either the Shonkla-raa or the Modhri.”

I felt my throat tighten. “Luckily, we don’t care what they want,” I said. “I’ll need to steal one of your pillows and a blanket, though.”

“Of course.” She paused again. “Do you think the room is safe?”

I shrugged. “If Minnario’s timeline is right, he got here pretty much right after we left, right while the tech was coding our DNA—well, mine, anyway—into the lock. That doesn’t leave much time for someone to nip in here and plant a bunch of bugs.”

“I suppose,” Bayta said. But her eyes were troubled. She opened her mouth—

“Meanwhile, it’s been a long day, and tomorrow’s looking to be just as bad,” I said before she could speak. “Go get your bedtime prep done so that I can do mine, and let’s get some sleep.”

“All right,” she said, gazing at me with the kind of wary intensity that told me she was on the same wavelength that I was.

Minnario’s timeline did indicate that no one would have had time to bug our quarters. But there was no way to know whether Minnario’s timeline was accurate.

Bayta headed into the half-bath, and then it was my turn. By the time I emerged she was already snuggled down in bed, the blankets pulled up to her chin.

So, to my surprise, was Ty. He had taken up a crossways position at the very head of the bed, his pineapple back pressed against the headboard as if he’d been stapled there. I didn’t know whether or not Bayta had made an effort to get rid of him, but fortunately the bed was long enough that she had enough room despite his presence. She’d also managed to snag the remaining pillow before he got to it.

Doug, for his part, had also skipped out on his doggie bed and was curled up in front of the door. If I’d been thinking about going for a solitary walk during the quiet of the Proteus night, I would have had to seriously revise my plans.

I padded over to the bed and, with only a little hesitation, lay down on top of the blankets beside Bayta. “You okay?” I whispered in her ear, feeling the warmth of her body through the bedding as I pressed myself close to her.

“Yes,” she said. But I could hear the tension in her voice.

Small wonder. We’d done this pretend-snuggling thing once before, also as a way of talking without our conversation being picked up by the bugs that had been planted in that room.

But things had been different then. I’d hardly known Bayta, hadn’t trusted her farther than I could throw a drudge Spider, and hadn’t found her all that attractive.

Now all of that had changed. All of it.

I didn’t know what Bayta was thinking or feeling. Most of me really didn’t want to know.

“Do you think he was lying?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, rolling my eyes toward the feathery underbelly a few centimeters from the top of my head, an underbelly that had started a low rumbling. Either Ty had a snoring problem, or the damn things actually purred. “On the other hand, I’m almost positive the other room was bugged, so there was zero chance there of a private conversation,” I went on. “Here, at least we’ve got a shot at it. Besides, what reason would Minnario have to lie?”

“The answer to that might depend on why Attorney Minnario is on Proteus in the first place.”

I grimaced in the darkness. “Theoretically, for medical treatment.”

“And we both know that’s not the whole story.”

“Right, but what is?” I asked. “My first assumption was that he was brought in to be a witness against me in Muzzfor’s death. But Hchchu hasn’t even mentioned Muzzfor. It’s also counterproductive for your hoped-for star witness to suddenly decide to represent the other team.”

“So why did he do that?” Bayta persisted. “Why would he decide on the spur of the moment to donate his time to a Human he barely knows? Especially a Human who’s facing serious charges that could very well be true?”

“There are still a few crazy idealistic crusading attorneys out there,” I said. “Maybe he’s a fan of old dit-rec courtroom dramas. Or maybe he really believes that anyone who could take down a multiple murderer is deserving of a good legal defense.”

“Or Chinzro Hchchu or the Shonkla-raa brought him in to defend you so that they could get close to us,” Bayta countered.

“Could be,” I agreed. “The problem with that is, why bother? There have to be dozens of lawyers right here on Proteus they could recruit without having to haul Minnario in, especially with what we all agree is a pathetically weak excuse. Without an attorney of our own on hand, we would have to take whoever Hchchu offered.”

“Except that we might suspect an appointed attorney of being in league with them.”

“Not a Filly lawyer,” I said firmly. “Genetic engineering, remember? I don’t think they’re capable of being in cahoots with anyone except their current client. Anyway, if Minnario was working with Hchchu, why on Earth did he so inconveniently disappear this evening, thereby screwing up Hchchu’s hearing schedule? For that matter, why did he volunteer to move to a room that now has a whole bunch of useless bugs in it?”

“Useless because we’re not there?”

“Useless because there are Shorshic vectored force thrusters operating in there,” I said. “Bugs by definition are tiny microphones and transmitters, and thruster harmonics screw up most radio frequencies something fierce. That’s probably why Minnario’s phone transponder messes up his controls—there are only a few frequencies that the thrusters don’t blanket, and phones and local control systems have to share them. No, whoever’s listening in on Minnario’s room is going to get nothing but unreadable and unfilterable static.”

“I didn’t know that,” Bayta said thoughtfully. “Maybe we should start carrying a thruster around with us.”

“High-level diplomats often do, actually,” I said. “One final point: if Hchchu and Minnario were trying to separate us, why would Minnario remind everyone that you qualify as a witness? I sure hadn’t thought of that dodge.”

“Could we have two different sides working at cross-purposes?” Bayta suggested slowly. “Perhaps Chinzro Hchchu wants to convict you of those six murders and doesn’t want me around for the trial, while the Shonkla-raa does want me at the trial so that we’ll both be away from Terese.”

I pursed my lips. Another angle I hadn’t thought of. I was definitely slipping. “Could be,” I agreed. “Certainly the whole idea of saddling us with these watchdogs theoretically gives them the power to control all our movements…”

I trailed off as something suddenly struck me. “What is it?” Bayta asked tensely.

“I was just wondering about the way Ty stuck with you tonight,” I said. “Clearly, the Fillies—presumably including Hchchu—expected both of them to come here with me, even though they knew we were supposedly going to be staying in different quarters. That implies there wasn’t any subtle nuance in Hchchu’s instructions to the watchdogs.”

“Maybe they misunderstood their orders,” Bayta suggested.

“Or maybe you’re right about two groups working at cross-purposes.”

“Perhaps.” Bayta was silent a moment. “Do you suppose one or the other of those groups may have planted trackers in them?”

“Unlikely,” I assured her. “Without a collar or other similar add-on, the only place for anyone to put something like that is inside the animal itself. That requires a fair amount of prep work, more than anyone got after Minnario charged up on his white horse and disrupted everyone’s plans. No, I’m pretty sure they’re clean.”

“That makes sense, I suppose,” she said. “It’s not like someone couldn’t put us under nearly constant observation anyway, assuming they had access to the security camera system.”

“Exactly,” I agreed. “Which I’m guessing they won’t do, since it would involve awkward questions from the patrollers. Much easier to simply have us followed.” I frowned down at Doug. “Which still leaves us with our watchdog tag-team puzzle. I wonder who aboard Proteus is authorized to give these things orders.”

“Maybe Attorney Minnario can find out.”

“Or maybe I can do it myself,” I said. “I think I’ll take a few minutes and see what files the computer will let me get into.”

“Do you want any help?”

“No, you’d better get to sleep,” I said. “Remember that Emikai will be here bright and early.”

“Do you trust him?”

I shrugged. “I’ve got no particular reason not to. He was a cop, which means he’s got his own set of genetic engineering and behavioral restraints.”

“Only his loyalties aren’t to us,” Bayta reminded me. “They’re to the Filiaelian santras.”

“There’s that,” I conceded. “And when I say there’s no reason not to trust him, I also mean there’s no reason to trust him, either. We’ll have to watch him—and Minnario—and see how this all plays out.”

“While also watching Terese and Dr. Aronobal?”

“Like I say, tomorrow’s going to be a full and rich day,” I said. “Get some sleep.” I patted her shoulder through the blankets and started to roll off the bed.

“Why Ty?” she asked suddenly.

“What?” I asked, frowning, as I rolled back to her again.

“Doug I understand,” she said. “They look a little like Earth dogs. But why do you call the other one Ty?”

“Actually, Doug has nothing to do with the word dog,” I said. “It’s the mask sort of things they have around their eyes. They remind me of an old character from Earth literature named Zorro. Doug and Ty come from Douglas Fairbanks and Tyrone Power, the actors who played the character in the first two dit-rec adventure adaptations of the stories.”

“Oh,” Bayta said. “I don’t think you’ve ever showed me those.”

“I’ll put them on the list,” I promised. “Right after The Hound of the Baskervilles.”

“The what?”

“Never mind,” I told her, climbing off the bed. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”