Judgment at Proteus (39 page)

“Thus providing a larger base for the watchdog mind segment,” I said, nodding. “
And
for your new ally among the Shonkla-raa.”

Minnario’s mouth made a wincing motion. “
Isantra
Kordiss is not an ally, not in the way you assume,” he said. “He can’t be. If the colony settled into its normal resting place beneath his brain, he would react the instant any of his fellow Shonkla-raa used their control tone.”

“Oh,” I said, frowning. That wrinkle hadn’t even occurred to me. “That wouldn’t be so good, would it? So where
is
the colony?”

“Interwoven in the tissue around his left optic nerve,” Minnario said. “Regrettably, in many ways
Isantra
Kordiss will be of only limited use. I will see what he sees through that eye, but will not be able to access his other senses. Nor will I be able to offer suggestions for him to follow.”

I nodded. “He’s a spy, but not a saboteur. Excellent. Use him wisely.”

“I fully intend for us to do so,” Minnario assured me.

“
Us
?” I asked, frowning at the odd pronoun. “I thought you were an
I
.”

“I am.” Minnario hesitated. “By
us
, I was referring to myself … and you.”

“You and me,” I said, my voice sounding flat in my ears.

Minnario seemed to brace himself. “I’ve now experienced what it’s like to be a slave, Compton,” he said, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “You can’t possibly envision what it’s like. To have your mind and heart invaded, to hear the gloating arrogance of your master as he turns your hands to his own purposes. It’s the most horrible experience one can possibly go through.”

“I can imagine,” I sympathized, wondering if he appreciated the true irony here. I personally didn’t know what that was like, but the millions of people the Modhri had turned into walkers were living a version of that exact same slavery. The only reason they didn’t also get the gloating part was because the Modhri blacked them out when he took them over.

“No, you can’t,” he countered tautly. “I’ve had a taste of what will become of me if the Shonkla-raa ever again rise to power.” His gaze defocused, his expression that of someone seeing hell itself coming for him. “I can’t let that happen. I won’t be their slave. Not ever.”

An odd sensation formed in the pit of my stomach. Were we really heading where it looked like we were heading? “What exactly are you saying?” I asked carefully. “That you want me to help you take down the Shonkla-raa?”

Slowly, his eyes returned from the terrible future to the only slightly less ominous present. “You misunderstand,” he said quietly. “I was designed as a spy, not a warrior. I have none of a warrior’s skills or intellect. Even with your help—” He shivered and shook his head. “I could never defeat the Shonkla-raa.”

He leaned forward, a sudden new intensity in his eyes. “But you
are
a warrior. I’ve experienced your battles against me, and I’ve now seen your battles against the Shonkla-raa. Of all those I’ve encountered across the galaxy, you are the one who stands the best chance of pushing back this threat.”

He drew himself up. “I don’t ask for your help, Frank Compton. I instead offer you mine. Completely, totally, unconditionally.”

I looked past his shoulder to where Bayta and Terese were still talking quietly together. “Fine,” I said. “Let’s talk ground rules. I’m in charge. I give an order, you carry it out. I ask for intel, you supply it. Anything I want from you, you give me.”

“Accepted,” the Modhri said without hesitation.

“And I want to meet the governing body,” I added. “Or whatever you call the part of you that makes overall policy decisions. Not that I don’t trust your sincerity, but I’d like to see a little more weight behind this offer.”

“Also accepted,” the Modhri said. “But you need not worry about that. During the two weeks of Quadrail travel after we left the super-express I sent many messages to the segment-prime.”

“That’s the mind segment based on Yandro?”

Minnario’s mouth twisted in an ironic smile. “Yes,” he confirmed. “All the components of the Modhri—all the parts that make me what I am—
all
of me recognizes the danger. And all of me accepts your leadership in defeating it.”

“Okay,” I said, eyeing him closely. A sudden, right-angle turn in my universe … and yet, it somehow wasn’t nearly as brain-numbing as it should have been. Perhaps on some level I’d already seen where our temporary alliance aboard the super-express and Proteus Station had been going. “For the moment, I can give you a tentative yes. But I’ll still want to discuss things directly with the segment-prime.”

“Of course,” he said, and there was no mistaking the relief in his voice. Had he really been so terrified, I wondered, that I would turn him down? “The segment-prime will speak with you at any time of your choosing.” His misshapen mouth puckered. “And I expect you and Bayta will also need to consult with her masters among the Chahwyn.”

I inclined my head. “Touché, in turn,” I said. “One final warning.” I locked eyes with him. “From this point on, Bayta and I and any other allies I pull into this are off-limits to your recruitment efforts. If it even
looks
like you’re trying to get us into touching range of Modhran coral, the deal will be off.”

Minnario snorted. “Be assured, Compton, that that’s the easiest promise of all. Do you think I’d be foolish enough to risk dulling your capabilities by tainting your thoughts and ideas with my own? I need you—this war needs you—exactly as you are.”

“As long as we’re clear.” I puffed out a lungful of air. This entire conversation, not to mention the deal I’d just made, was skating right on the edge of certifiably insane.

And yet, the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. After all, the kind of infiltration and intel-gathering I had in mind for the Modhri was exactly what he’d been designed for in the first place.

Not to mention the fact that using those abilities against the philosophical descendants of the despots who’d created him rather appealed to my sense of irony. “Okay, then,” I said. “Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Minnario frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” I said. “A classic line from a Human dit-rec drama.
Casablanca
. Not important.”

“I will have to view that someday.”

“Yes, you should,” I agreed. “I think you’d like it.”

*   *   *

I had thought that Minnario might take the journey with us back to Earth. But we’d barely reached the safety of the Ilat Dumar Covrey Quadrail station when, stunned and dumbfounded by the fact that his supposed medical transfer to Proteus had actually been some kind of mix-up, he immediately booked passage aboard the next train for his proper treatment center in the Morak Trov Lemanab system. He accepted my thanks for his legal assistance, wished me well in any future problems with the Filiaelians, and headed off into the heart of the Filiaelian Assembly.

And as he traveled, he no doubt pondered this brand-new symptom he’d developed, this recurring problem of persistent mental blackouts.

“Do you think we can trust him?” Bayta asked quietly as she, Terese, and I made our way across the crowded station toward the platform where we’d be picking up our own train back to Venidra Carvo.

“He could have betrayed us,” I reminded her. “He didn’t. He could have infected us so that he’d have direct access to my allegedly brilliant strategic and tactical abilities. He didn’t do that, either. Besides, his reason for opposing the Shonkla-raa rings pretty true.”

“Because he doesn’t want to be a slave.” She eyed me. “I suppose you find that funny.”

“I find it ironic,” I corrected. “Not necessarily the same thing. And frankly, having now seen the Shonkla-raa in action, I’ll take any help I can get.”

“I’m not sure my people will accept this,” she warned, lowering her voice still further.

“They’ll be welcome to voice any objections,” I assured her. “Provided they can also offer some practical alternatives.”

“Mr. Frank Compton?”

I turned, tensing, my hand automatically reaching for the Beretta, which was already tucked away in a Spider lockbox ready to be loaded aboard our next train.

But it wasn’t a Shonkla-raa who was striding toward me, or any Filly at all, for that matter. It was a Halka, tall and regal, dressed in the distinctive tricolor layered robes of the Halkan Peerage. A couple of watchful and tough-looking bodyguards trailed at a respectful distance behind him. “I’m Frank Compton,” I confirmed warily. “Do I know you?”

“Senior Ambassador ChoDar of the Halkavisti Empire,” he identified himself formally. “No, we haven’t met. But I believe we may once have had an acquaintance in common. High Commissioner JhanKla.”

I suppressed a grimace. JhanKla and I had met, all right. He’d turned out to be a Modhran walker, he’d tried his best to kill me, and I’d ended up killing him instead. “Yes, the high commissioner and I did meet once or twice, Your Eminence,” I conceded.

“Yes, I thought so,” ChoDar said. “So very regrettable, his mysterious disappearance aboard that ill-fated Quadrail.” He shook his head, chasing the memories away. “But that is the past. Tell me, Mr. Compton, are you and your companions on your way back to our side of the galaxy?”

“Yes, we are,” I said, frowning. Given ChoDar’s rank and position and how thoroughly the Modhri had penetrated the upper echelons of Halkan society, it was almost a dead certainty that he was also a walker. What was the Modhri up to? “Why? Was there some place in the Assembly you thought I might like better?”

“By no means,” he assured me. “As it happens, I too have decided to return to my home. Since we travel the same route, and since you were a friend of High Commissioner JhanKla’s, I’d hoped you and your companions would share my Peerage car during the journey.”

And then I understood. A Halkan Peerage car was one of the standards of galactic elegance, dripping with luxury, comfort, and prestige. More importantly, Peerage cars were always connected to the rear of whatever Quadrail they were traveling with. Nestled snugly inside, we would be isolated, alone, and away from prying Shonkla-raa eyes. “That’s very generous of you, Your Eminence,” I said. “But I wouldn’t want to impose on your hospitality.”

“It would be an honor, not an imposition,” he said. “But I warn you: if you accept, be aware that you won’t be able to change your minds after we’ve left.” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “To be honest, I find Filiaelians to be sometimes wearisome. I have therefore requested the Spiders to omit the usual vestibule connector between our car and the rear baggage car of our train.”

I smiled tightly. Isolated, alone, away from prying eyes, and now completely separated from the rest of the train by a couple of meters of partial vacuum, a barrier even a Shonkla-raa whistle couldn’t penetrate. Unless Bayta and I were willing to be cooped up for the next two months inside a Spider tender, there was no safer way for us to get back to Human space.

The Modhri wasn’t just waiting around for me to make up my mind about accepting him as an ally. He was already behaving like one.

“Thank you, Your Eminence,” I said. “We would be honored to accept your hospitality.”

“I’m pleased,” he said. He smiled, and for just a second his face sagged and his eyes flattened with the telltale signs of a Modhran presence. The Modhri’s version of a knowing wink? “I look forward to whiling away the hours in pleasant conversation with you. An ambassador, after all, hears many things.”

“I’m certain he does.” I looked at Terese, who was oblivious to the true nature of the situation. I looked at Bayta, who understood the situation completely and still was far from sure this was a good idea.

“Especially my particular passion of Filiaelian high opera, and those who sing it,” ChoDar added. “Are you interested in such things, Mr. Compton?”

“Indeed I am,” I said softly. “I look forward to hearing all about it.”

TWENTY

An hour later, as snug and safe as we could reasonably hope to be under the circumstances, we headed out.

It was a potentially stressful situation, given the fact that we were all essentially strangers to one another. But ChoDar was a senior ambassador, and within minutes of our train passing through the station’s atmosphere barrier it was clear that his rank and title hadn’t just been someone’s idea of a last-minute New Year’s gift. He started by personally giving us a tour of his car, chattering away genially the whole time. He introduced us to his two guard-assistants, the servitor who handled most of the day-to-day servant work, and his chef. He even allowed us a tantalizing sample of the sauce the latter was working on for our dinner, a Halkan courtesy that was usually reserved for close friends. By the time he showed us to our sleeping compartments even Terese’s tension had eased noticeably.

Dinner, two hours later, more than lived up to what the samples had promised. Again, ChoDar was the perfect host, keeping the conversation going and filling in any potentially awkward gaps with highly entertaining stories of his experiences traveling around the galaxy on behalf of the Halkavisti Empire.

After dinner came drinks in the lounge and more stories. Terese seemed to be fading rapidly—not surprisingly, given the stress of her pregnancy plus the hell she’d just been through on Proteus—and I made a point of keeping an eye on her.

Sure enough, midway through my second iced tea her eyes drooped closed, and her body slumped limply in her contour chair.

“Spice-broiled
pipita
often has the same effect on me,” ChoDar commented cheerfully, gesturing to the sleeping girl. “Shall I have YhoTeHeu carry her to her compartment?”

“No, she should be all right here,” I assured him, going over for a closer look at her. She seemed all right.

On the other hand, we really had no idea what Aronobal and the rest of the Shonkla-raa ghouls had done to her back on Proteus. Tomorrow, I decided, I would take a few skin and blood samples from her, unpleasant though that kind of task was to me, and run them through my reader and its sophisticated sensors.