Judgment at Proteus (16 page)

“I will keep that in mind,” Wandek said with an edge of sarcasm. “In the meantime, you will stay here.” He turned a glare onto Minnario and Bayta. “The discussion is over. Return to your quarters.”

I looked at Bayta, noting the fresh tightness in her expression. “Bayta will be staying here,” I said quickly.

“What do you say?” Wandek demanded.

“I want her here with me,” I told him. “Which part of that didn’t you get?”

Wandek turned to Bayta, his blaze going into full mottle mode again. “That is ridiculous,” he insisted. “She is charged with no crime.”

“No, but since you haven’t yet charged the real suspects with the crime, it’s got a sort of weird yin/yang to it,” I said. “She can bunk down in the other cell.”

“No,” Wandek said firmly. “Keeping her here could be construed as an unstated charge, permitting the possibility of counteraction against
Kuzyatru
Station. I cannot permit it.”

[There would be no such liabilities if the cell door was left open,] Minnario spoke up. [If her actions aren’t hindered, there would be no construing that she was under charges.]

“She could even sign a contract waiving her right to counteraction if those parameters are met,” I added.

Wandek bit out a phrase that had somehow been missed in the Westali language classes. But contracts were king, queen, and the whole royal flush in the Filiaelian Assembly, and now that I’d invoked that magic word he would have a hard time turning down my request. “I will prepare the contract,” he said reluctantly. He turned a baleful eye on Bayta and raised his voice. {Lieutenant of the Guard? Come at once and open this cell.}

One of the Jumpsuits hurried forward. He reached for my cell door—{The other one, fool,} Wandek gritted.

The Jumpsuit frowned in obvious confusion. But an
usantra
had spoken. Dutifully, he touched the pad of the unoccupied cell. The door gave a snick, and he pulled it open. {Is the Human female also to be charged with murder?} he asked.

{She merely wishes lodging for the night,} Wandek growled. {She may come and go as she pleases. See that she and the prisoner are fed in the morning.}

{I obey,
Usantra
Wandek,} the Jumpsuit said.

Without another word, Wandek spun around and strode from the room. Once again, the loitering Jumpsuits made sure to get out of his way.

[I take my leave, as well,] Minnario said. He looked around and leaned in close to me. [Whatever speech you wish to share, remember there’s a camera pointed at you,] he added quietly. Getting a grip on his chair’s controls, he swiveled around and headed out in Wandek’s wake. This time, none of the Jumpsuits bothered to interfere.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Bayta asked softly.

I looked behind me. The two cells were set up as mirror images of each other, with the cots pressed end to end against the dividing set of bars. “Later,” I said, giving an elaborate yawn that required no acting whatsoever. “Let’s get to bed, shall we?”

Bayta’s eyes flicked past me to the cot arrangement. “Good idea,” she said.

She stepped through the door of her new quarters and walked to her bed, lying down with her head to the bars. Ty, for once, didn’t try to hog the headboard position, but merely curled up on the floor beside her. I lay down, too, my head toward Bayta’s, then gave the three remaining Jumpsuits in the room a baleful look. “Do you mind?” I asked. “A little privacy, if you please. You can also turn off the lights while you’re at it.”

Taking their own sweet time about it, the three Fillies strolled from the room. The lights, naturally, stayed on.

“Are you all right,” Bayta whispered. “I mean,
really
all right?”

“As all right as someone can be who’s being framed for yet another murder,” I told her sourly. “They’re doing an especially terrific job on this one, too. Did I mention that the two cameras in the dome had already been taken out when I got there?”

“No, you didn’t,” she said. “How was it done?”

“One of them was twisted up on its gimbals where it couldn’t see anything but the top of the dome,” I said. “The other isn’t even there anymore. No idea when it was done, but certainly sometime before the murderer got busy.”

“So that no one would see the killing,” Bayta murmured.

“
And
so that I couldn’t prove when in the timeline I arrived on the scene,” I said. “Fortunately, I have an ace in the hole that so far no one seems to have noticed.”

“The
msikai-dorosli
?”

“Exactly,” I said. “I didn’t see much of the victim before I was hauled away, but I saw enough to know that he’d been stabbed at least twice. They looked a lot like the wounds Muzzfor inflicted on our allies aboard the super-express.”

“Allies.” Even in a whisper, I could sense the odd flatness to the word. “I’m sorry, but it still sounds wrong to talk about the Modhri that way.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to get used to it,” I assured her. “That was a specific mind segment, in a specific situation, and the truce we had died when he did. So just forget it.”

“I’m trying,” Bayta said. “So you’re saying one of the Shonkla-raa was the killer?”

“I’ll know better if and when I get a look at the autopsy,” I said. “Those fancy self-locking stabbing fingers Muzzfor had aren’t likely to be mistaken for a knife or any other kind of weapon. It’s probably too much to hope that we’ll be able to match the wounds to any specific fingers, but we should at least be able to prove they
were
fingers.”

“Though a specific match may not be impossible,” Bayta said thoughtfully. “The Proteus computer system is quite extensive.”

“So I’ve noticed,” I said. “Speaking of which, what exactly were you doing on the computer when I went to bed?”

There was just the briefest hesitation. “I was mostly just looking around,” she said.

“Mostly?”

“Yes,” she said, her tone warning me to drop it. “We’ve talked about how those enhanced Shonkla-raa throats look like the ones Filiaelian opera singers sometimes get to extend their range and volume.”

Whereas the Shonkla-raa used their additional vocal capacity to send out an ultrasonic tone that could paralyze Spiders and take control of Modhran walkers. All things considered, I’d rather have opera. “So what were you were looking for, the headquarters of the Proteus Operatic Society?”

“Actually, yes, I was,” she said, sounding a little miffed at my tone. “And every other musical and singing group aboard.”

I grimaced. “Sorry,” I apologized. “Actually, that’s a very good idea.”

“Not really,” she said with a sigh. “It turns out that there are dozens of groups devoted to songs and singing, scattered all across the station. Not to mention at least five operatic associations. Dead end.”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “Maybe we can figure out a way to refine the search. Were any of the operatic societies in this sector?”

“No, the nearest was in Sector 25-C.”

Three sectors away from us in the direction of the station’s rim. On a station this size, that was a long walk and a hell of a lot of Fillies away. “It’s still a good idea,” I said. “Let’s think about it some more and see what we come up with.” I yawned again. “Or rather, let’s sleep on it. I don’t know about you, but I’m about half dead.”

“You think we’re safe here?” Bayta asked quietly.

So she’d figured out why I’d insisted on her staying with me tonight. “What, surrounded by Proteus patrollers?” I countered, trying for a cheerfulness that I didn’t really feel.

“Most of whom think you’re a murderer.”

“Most of whom have had one murder on their watch and want to make damned sure they don’t have a second one,” I pointed out. “I was a cop, Bayta. I know how cops think and feel. Besides, Filly cops are designed with very specific behavioral boundaries. I doubt they could get up a good lynch mob even if they wanted to.”

She didn’t answer, and it wasn’t hard for me to guess what she was thinking. That was all well and good for your run-of-the-mill Filly cops, but these cops were on Proteus Station, under the authority of the ancient Slisst Protocols. Neither of us had a clue what the Protocols had to say about lynch mobs.

“It’ll be all right,” I said into the silence. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“All right.” Bayta paused. “It’s almost like being in the middle of a dit-rec drama, isn’t it?”

“That does seem to be the way our lives have been going these days,” I agreed. “Any one in particular springing to mind?”

“I was just thinking tonight about the one you showed me last week,” she said. “The Hitchcock dit-rec where the man was framed for murder and found himself caught up in a huge conspiracy.”

“Right—
The 39 Steps
,” I said, making a face. “That one’s definitely hitting a little too close to home tonight. I don’t think Proteus’s bullet trains go anywhere near Scotland, though.”

“Too bad,” she said. “The landscape looked very pleasant.”

“I’ll take you there someday,” I promised. “Your choice as to with or without the handcuffs.”

She exhaled, just loudly enough for me to hear. “If we ever make it there, I think we’ll have had enough of handcuffs.”

“I suppose,” I conceded. “Joking aside, try not to let any of this worry you. We’ve gotten out of much worse situations. We’ll get out of this one, too.”

“I know,” she said. “Good night, Frank.”

“Good night, Bayta.”

There were some soft creakings as she resettled herself on her cot, and with a grimace I did the same. Maybe she was right. Maybe we
would
be murdered in our beds. If we were, I’d never forgive myself.

There was a little woof from across my cell. I opened my eyes to see that Doug had once again settled himself in front of my door, once again keeping me from sneaking out alone. The fact that the lock on this particular door was on the other side had apparently escaped him.

Still, even a Jumpsuit lynch mob wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill me in their own security nexus. And if Doug was keeping me from getting out, he was also keeping anyone else from getting in. It was, I decided, a fair enough trade.

Closing my eyes again, I rolled over to face the wall, where the glaring light was the least intrusive, and drifted off to sleep.

*   *   *

I slept straight through the night, without any of the disturbances or interruptions that might have been caused by on-duty Jumpsuits “accidentally” dropping tools or equipment where the clatter might startle a prisoner awake. There were no such incidents, I wasn’t murdered in my bed, and when I did wake up it was to the delectable aroma of a hot breakfast on a tray just inside my cell.

The Jumpsuits might think I was a murderer, but that clearly wasn’t interfering with their professionalism. Genetic engineering, I thought as I ate, could be a wonderful thing.

I had finished my breakfast, and Bayta was just starting to stir in her cell, when we had a visitor.

“Good morning,”
Logra
Emikai said gravely, glancing around the processing room as he walked across to our cells. “I trust your treatment has been proper?”

“I couldn’t have asked for better,” I assured him, waving around the room. “What do you think? Professionally, I mean.”

“Very nice,” he said. “More compact than other processing areas I have seen, but well and properly equipped.” He gave my cell a quick once-over. “Though the holding facilities are not as secure as I would prefer.”

“I doubt they usually have to deal with anything more dangerous than the occasional rowdy,” I pointed out. “I hope you didn’t come here to escort me to my morning court appearance. It looks like I’m going to be tied up for a while.”

“Indeed,” Emikai agreed. “But not in the way you think.” He half turned. {Lieutenant of the Guard?} he called.

A Jumpsuit appeared in the doorway, striding toward me with a darkened blaze and a decidedly unhappy expression on his face. He reached the cell and touched the pad, and the door popped open. Turning on his heel, he strode from the room.

Emikai beckoned to me. “Come.”

“Come where?” I asked, not moving. “
Chinzro
Hchchu’s court?”

“That proceeding has been put on indefinite suspension,” Emikai said. “You have been assigned to investigate last night’s murder.”

I felt my jaw drop. “I’ve been
what
?”

“An unexpected turn of events, to be sure,” Emikai agreed. “But as you yourself already stated, the experience of the
Kuzyatru
Station patrollers is largely limited to overenthusiastic revelers and threats to property. As it happens, there are only two trained investigators aboard.” He barked a small laugh. “You, and I.”

“And they’re desperate enough to actually put me in the game?” I asked, still not believing it. “The chief suspect in the case?”

“You are no longer a suspect,” Emikai said. “
Chinzro
Hchchu has so ruled.”

I glanced at Bayta, who was now sitting up on her cot listening to us. “You’re kidding,” I said. “A prosecutor declaring his very own defendant innocent? That’s one for the books.”

“Only for this particular crime,” Emikai clarified. “The events surrounding the other six murders must still be examined, because at that time you did not have
msikai-dorosli
observing your actions.” He looked down at Doug, then across to where Ty was still dozing beside Bayta. “
Chinzro
Hchchu realizes you could not possibly have committed such a crime in their presence.”

“Glad someone agrees with me, for whatever reason,” I said, turning to Bayta. “You ready to play detective?”

“Of course,” she said, looking over at her breakfast tray. “Do I have time to eat first?”

“She can remain here and join us after her meal,” Emikai offered. “Or she could simply stay here. She is not a trained investigator, is she?”

“No, but she’s terrific at holding the flashlight,” I said. “Just take the tray along, Bayta—you can eat on the way down.” I cocked an eyebrow at Emikai as something suddenly occurred to me. “And I’ll also need my reader, data chips, and the rest of the gear the patrollers took away from me.”