Judgment at Proteus (15 page)

The medical dome was similarly deserted, though once again there were a scattering of lights in several of the buildings, including Building Twelve. I stayed on my path, heading straight across the dome as if aiming for the exit corridor on the far side.

I was halfway across the dome when I noticed that the security camera I was walking toward looked odd. I continued toward it, trying to pierce the twilight darkness and see what it was that had caught my attention.

Two steps later, I got it. Talking earlier with Bayta, I had commented that someone with a push broom could shove the camera up on its gimbals and aim it out of line with the dome floor.

Apparently, someone had done just that.

“That’s interesting,” I murmured aloud. Turning, I looked toward the other camera, the one I’d just walked beneath, wondering if the fellow with the broom had had a similarly equipped friend.

He’d had a friend, all right. Only the friend seemed to have had a pocket chain saw instead of a broom. The other camera was completely missing.

I felt a shiver run up my back.
The way is clear,
my mysterious correspondent had said. The only question now was whether the way was clear for me to investigate Building Twelve, or clear for me to incriminate myself by breaking and entering.

Or clear for me to casually walk to my death.

I took a deep breath.
So we play along,
I’d told Bayta. Unfortunately, that was still the best strategy I had. “Heel, boy,” I murmured to Doug, and started across the dome.

With the soft glow from the handful of lit windows throwing the front of Building Twelve into comparatively deeper shadow, I was nearly there before I spotted the body lying crumpled in front of the door.

I should have simply stopped in my tracks and punched the emergency button on my comm. But I’m never that smart. Besides, if the victim wasn’t quite dead, a few minutes’ delay could mean all the difference in the world.

And so instead of stopping I broke into a run, closed the last five meters, and dropped to my knees beside the body. It was a male Filly, I noted automatically, dressed in either a green or blue medical tech’s outfit, I couldn’t tell which in the dim light. His body was limp, he was still warm, and he was lying in a pool of blood.

He was also very dead.

I was reaching for my comm when the door in front of me abruptly opened, flooding the crime scene with a blaze of light coming at me from around the silhouette of a second Filly.

I sprang sideways, squeezing my eyes shut against the blinding glare, trying desperately to get out of the line of fire. If I could get around the side of the building before my assailant got his weapon lined up, I might still have a chance.

I hadn’t gotten two steps when I caught Doug’s side with my leg and went sprawling face-first over him onto the ground. I got my hands under my chest to try to push myself back up—

{Help!} a female Filly voice screeched from the direction of the doorway, the harmonics from her terrified shout rising well into the ultrasonic range. {Assault! Death! Murder! Help!}

And even as I shakily made it back to my feet, more lights in the buildings around me began to come to life.

With a sigh, I pulled out my comm and punched for Bayta. “It’s me,” I said when she answered. “Get dressed and get up to the security nexus. I’m about to head that direction myself.”

I looked back at Building Twelve. Three husky Filly males had now appeared, two of them dropping down beside the dead body, the third striding purposefully toward me. “And you’d better give Minnario a call,” I added. “I think I’m going to need my lawyer.”

SEVEN

I’d already discovered that the security nexus upstairs had an employee snack area. Now, I learned they also had a processing room complete with a pair of holding cells.

The cells weren’t much in the way of prisoner restraint, actually, certainly not compared to some of the high-tech prisons I’d seen across the galaxy. They were composed of plain high-impact plastic bars, with simple DNA-key locks, and extremely spare accommodations, each boasting a cot and sink/toilet combo. A single monitor camera covered the doors of both cells, and probably not much else. My guess was that the whole setup had been designed more as a drunk tank than with any expectations that they would someday play host to an actual accused felon.

But whatever the cells lacked in physical security was more than made up for by the half-dozen Jumpsuits milling around the processing room, every one of them keeping a sharp eye on me. They were clearly shaken, some of them stunned at the killing, others enraged by it.

And for the first time since I’d arrived at Proteus, they were carrying sidearms. From where I was sitting I couldn’t tell what kind of weapons they were, whether they were lethal or something more humane. I wasn’t especially anxious to find out, either.

Bayta was the first visitor to arrive, but she wasn’t allowed in to see me. I could see her out in the main nexus room, Ty at her heels, gesturing as she talked inaudibly to one of the Jumpsuits. Working solely from their body language, I tentatively concluded that she was demanding to see me while the Filly was insisting she couldn’t.

The next new arrival was
Usantra
Wandek. Him, naturally, they let right in.

“Good evening,
Usantra
Wandek,” I greeted him politely, standing up as he strode across the room toward my cell, the Jumpsuits melting out of his path like butter in front of a laser scalpel. “I don’t suppose it would help for me to tell you this is all a huge mistake.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t speak at all, in fact, until he had stopped just outside the bars. “Why?” he demanded.

“Why what?” I asked. “Why was I out for a walk? Or why did I try to help someone I thought might be hurt?”

“Why did you kill him?” he snarled. His blaze was mottling like crazy, the changes coming fast and furious. Clearly, he was as shaken as any of the Jumpsuits around him.

“I didn’t kill him,” I said. “And I’d like to request a replacement guardlaw for my trial.”

He twitched oddly. Apparently, that one had caught him completely by surprise. “What?”

“You heard me,” I said. “A guardlaw who instantly jumps to conclusions regarding my guilt in one situation can’t be trusted to be impartial in his judgments in a different situation.”

For a moment he just stared at me, as if not believing an accused murderer on the wrong side of a cell door would dare lecture him on the responsibilities of his rank and position. He drew himself up—

[Say nothing more, Mr. Compton,] Minnario called from the doorway. [You’re under my guidance now. Please let me through. Let me through, please.]

Most of the Jumpsuits moved more or less promptly out of his way. A couple of them, those who seemed angriest about the murder, did just the opposite, placing themselves between Minnario’s chair and the cells. Useless spite, of course—even something as archaic as the Slisst Protocols undoubtedly allowed a prisoner free access to his attorney. Or to his second, as the Protocols probably phrased it. I waited, memorizing the uncooperative Jumpsuits’ faces for future reference, as Minnario made his way through the crowd. I also noted that Wandek made no attempt to intervene on Minnario’s behalf.

But Minnario was just as stubborn as the Fillies, and eventually he got through the obstacle course and glided to a halt beside Wandek. [What’s this about?] he asked tersely. [Bayta messaged that you were in custody. Now I hear from the patrollers that you’re accused of
murder
?]

“Yes, I am, and no, I didn’t do it,” I said. “But you have to admit, there’s a certain charm in this kind of consistency.”

Minnario finished reading the transcription on his display and then looked at Wandek. [I’ll speak to my client alone, if you please,] he said firmly.

“He has not yet made an official statement of his activities this night,” Wandek countered, just as firmly. “He might as well speak it to both of us together.”

[The requirements of the law—]

“That’s all right,” I interrupted. “I have nothing to say that
Usantra
Wandek can’t hear. Besides, it’s a long story, and I’d hate to have to tell it twice.”

Minnario’s conical mouth puckered, but he nodded. [Proceed,] he said.

“And in that same vein,” I added, “we might as well have Bayta in here, too.”

This time it was Wandek’s turn for a puckered mouth. Clearly, I wasn’t making anyone happy tonight. “She is not necessary to this conversation.”

I folded my arms across my chest and remained silent. His blaze did its mottling thing, and then he half turned toward the door. {Bring the Human,} he called.

For a moment nothing happened. Then, one of the Jumpsuits appeared in the doorway, with Bayta and Ty following close behind. The Filly led her to Minnario’s side, took one look at Wandek’s thunderous expression, and beat a hasty retreat.

“Are you all right?” Bayta asked anxiously.

“I’m fine,” I assured her. “Okay, here’s how it went down. I was awakened about twelve o’clock by the message light on my computer. The message said only that the way was clear and that I needed to go.”

“What does that mean, the way is clear?” Wandek asked.

“Good question,” I agreed. “Unfortunately, I really don’t know. Even more unfortunately, since the message was unsigned, I didn’t have any way to write or call back and see what it was all about.”

“You should have called the patrollers,” Wandek said severely.

“What, to report a confusing message?” I scoffed. “Because at the time I thought that was all it was. Since it was in English, and since I gather not a whole lot of people aboard Proteus are fluent in the language, I just assumed the sender had garbled the translation.”

“The computers aboard
Kuzyatru
Station do not make translation errors,” Wandek said stiffly.

“I’m sure they don’t,” I said. “But the station’s computers weren’t involved. Computer translations are always tagged, and I know what the Proteus mark looks like—I saw it when I was looking up restaurant listings. No, whoever sent the message typed it in just the way I got it.”

[So if the message was mistranslated, what did you think it was supposed to say?] Minnario asked.

“I didn’t know then, and I really don’t know now,” I told him. “But since the reason I came to Proteus was to watch over Ms. German, I assumed it had something to do with her. So I got dressed and headed for the medical dome to see if something was going on that I should know about.”

[Did you speak to her doctors?] Minnario asked. [What did they say?]

“Nothing, because I never got to any of them,” I said. “The building was completely dark, so I figured everyone was down for the night. I was heading toward one of the other buildings, one of the ones that
was
showing lights, to see if someone there might have sent me the message, when I saw the body.”

“Why did you not use your comm to signal an emergency?” Wandek asked.

“Because my trained response to such things is to first check them out myself,” I said. “Who was he, anyway?”

“One of the techs from Building Eight.” Wandek cocked his head. “The building in which Terese German is being treated.”

I felt a shiver run up my back. So this hadn’t been just some random killing of some random person. Whoever had set me up had done a good job of paying attention to the details. “Was he on the night shift?” I asked.

“His position and rank are irrelevant,” Wandek said. “So you then approached the body—”

“Excuse me, but the victim’s life and particulars are very much
not
irrelevant,” I put in. “If he was night shift, he must have gone to Building Twelve for some reason. What reason? If, on the other hand, he was day shift, what was he doing in the dome at night? Was he lured there the same way I was?”

For once, Wandek seemed at a loss for words. He looked at Minnario, then at Bayta, and finally back at me. “Yes,” he said, his voice subdued. “Yes, I see what you mean. Perhaps…” He trailed off, and did another glance around at Minnario and Bayta. “Please continue.”

“That’s basically it,” I said. “I went over to see what had happened, but before I could do more than confirm he was dead and start to call for help, the door opened and someone started screaming. Ninety seconds later the place was crawling with Jumpsuits, half of them trampling the crime scene while the other half hauled me up here.”

“They did not
trample the crime scene
,” Wandek growled, the momentary introspective mood having apparently passed. “They were attempting to resuscitate the victim.”

“Well, whatever they were doing, the scene looked to be pretty well demolished,” I said. “So that’s how I spent my evening. Where do we go from here?”

Wandek seemed to brace himself. “You were found at the scene of a killing,” he said. “You must be processed and formally charged with that crime.”

For a moment I considered asking how he thought I could have pulled off a cold-blooded murder with my station-issue conscience Doug at my side. But given that both Doug
and
Ty were presumably supposed to be sticking close to me, and given the fact that only one of them was actually there with me in my cell, I decided it might not be the wisest thing to bring that up. I still didn’t know what this tag-team game was that the watchdogs were playing, but I didn’t want to draw any attention to it until I had a few answers of my own. “Understood,” I said instead. “What about the rest?”

Wandek frowned. “The rest of what?”

“The rest of the suspects,” I said. “I figure the list includes everyone who works in Buildings Twelve and Eight, plus the night crews in the other buildings—oh, hell, let’s just make it everyone in the medical dome and be done with it. Plus all the victim’s friends and enemies, of course.”

“Do not mock me,” Wandek warned darkly. “You are the one who was found with the body.”

“Which either makes me the dumbest murderer in this half of the galaxy or else makes my story true,” I countered. “But suit yourself. If I were you, though, I’d get that autopsy up and running as soon as possible. There’s this thing we Humans call the 24/24 rule: the most important part of a murder investigation are the twenty-four hours immediately before the crime, and the twenty-four hours immediately afterward.”