Judgment at Proteus (21 page)

Nothing happened.

I frowned, pressing the plunger a little harder. But it didn’t move. The fluid level stubbornly remained right where it was, without so much as a drop seeping out the end of the needle.

“Is there trouble?” Emikai asked.

“Yes, but I don’t know what,” I said, peering closely at the hypo. I couldn’t see anything wrong with it. “I can’t get the fluid to expel.”

“Let me see.”

I handed it over, and for a few seconds he carefully turned it over in his hands as he studied it. “Well?” I asked.

“I do not see any problem,” he said. “But it seems bulkier, somehow, than the hypos I have used in the past.”

“Interesting,” I said. “With Human equipment of this sort, the goal is usually to make things lighter and simpler rather than bulkier.”

“That is generally the same with us, as well,” Emikai said. “Can you tell me what fluid this is?”

I shook my head. “I can identify Human blood and a couple of other fluids by sight. But I don’t know this one.”

“But you
did
see it being withdrawn from Ms. German?”

“I—” I broke off, a strange thought tugging suddenly at the base of my skull. “I saw a tech stick the needle into one of the access tubes they’ve got plugged into her,” I said slowly. “I also saw him pull on the plunger. But that’s not what you asked, is it?”

“No, it is not,” Emikai said, and from the tone of his voice I could tell he was thinking the same thing I was. “Shall we perform an experiment?”

I gestured. “Go for it.”

He shifted the hypo to a two-handed grip, shot me a final look, and carefully pulled on the plunger.

The level of the amber fluid didn’t change, as it should have if there were a little of the stuff still inside the needle itself. Nor did bubbles appear in the fluid, as there should have if the needle was instead empty and Emikai was merely sucking air.

And then, as we watched, something
did
happen. A small droplet of a clear liquid oozed from the end of the needle.

I eyed the droplet a moment, then shifted my gaze back to Emikai. “Well, well,” I said. “Isn’t
that
interesting?”

“A reverse-valved hypo,” Emikai rumbled, still staring at the droplet. “But this makes no sense. She is in a hospital facility, where injections and medications are both expected and commonplace. Why use deception of this sort?”

“Precisely because she
is
in a hospital facility,” I said darkly. “Everything she’s officially given has to be identified, double-checked, and recorded. But with these, they can pump her full of stuff that’s completely off the radar, all under the guise of taking samples.”

I nodded toward the living room. “That also explains why there were two blood-sample hypos instead of just one. The first was a regular hypo, with a genuine blood sample, while the other was one of these tricked-out jobs.”

“Two reverse-valved hypos,” Emikai murmured thoughtfully. “One injection going to her and the other to her unborn child?”

“Or one intramuscular and one intravenous,” I said. “Or one into the bloodstream and the other into the intestines or liver. Take your pick.”

Emikai turned his gaze in the direction of the living room. “The
santra
you have taken prisoner. Is he one of those involved?”

“I think so,” I said. “If not directly, then at least peripherally. Who is he?”

Emikai shook his head. “I do not yet know.”

“You just said he’s a
santra
,” I said, frowning. “If you don’t know who he is, how do you know that?”

“It is obvious he has had a great deal of genetic work done,” Emikai said, gesturing toward his own throat. “From that it follows that he is a
santra
.”

“I thought
santra
was a social or political title,” I said. “It means
exalted one
, doesn’t it?”

“A more accurate translation would be
distinguished one
, and as such can also be applied to those with extensive genetic alterations,” Emikai said. “In actual practice, of course, those two populations largely coincide.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” I said, though the idea of getting your DNA remodeled just because you had the money and status to do it sounded slightly ridiculous. Still, it wasn’t any crazier than getting elaborate tattoos or jewelry implants, each of which had been fashionable for a time in various upper-class Human societies. “So what exactly does his status mean to all this?”

Emikai cocked his head. “I do not understand.”

“Back on the super-express you said that as an ex-cop you were still required to obey orders given to you by Filiaelian
santras
,” I reminded him. “Does that mean you have to take orders from him once he wakes up?”

I’d been hoping for a quick answer, a firm and automatic assurance that even
santras
weren’t above the law. The lengthening silence wasn’t a good sign. “Well?” I prompted.

“I can certainly restrain any Filiaelian who has clearly broken the law,
santra
or otherwise,” he said. “I also would have no difficulty in turning over a suspected lawbreaker to currently active enforcement officers.” He hesitated. “But I have as yet seen no evidence that this
santra
has committed any crime. I also infer that you do not wish to turn him over to the
Kuzyatru
Station patrollers at this time.”

“He
did
assault me,” I pointed out.

“A crime for which I have no proof other than your statement,” Emikai countered. “Proper protocol would call for an interrogation of both parties in an attempt to determine the truth.”

I grimaced. This was starting to get awkward. “If we turn him over to the patrollers, his friends will know he’s been taken,” I said. “They’ll also find out what happened between him and me, which they’ll then try to twist against me.”

“We could arrange to keep him incommunicado.”

“Trust me, they’d get around that,” I said grimly. “Once they’ve figured out what we know—which isn’t much, but they don’t know that it isn’t much—they would have two options. Either they would step up whatever they’re doing to Ms. German, or else they would shut down completely and go to ground. At this point, we aren’t ready for either option.”

“But there are legal requirements at play,” Emikai said. “You have no proof that this person has committed a crime.”

“We have that hypo,” I pointed out. “That proves some kind of crime is under way.” I snapped my fingers. “He also has a passkey that lets him into other people’s apartments. That can’t be legal for him to have, can it?”

For a long moment Emikai gazed down at the gimmicked hypo in his hand. “What do you wish from me?” he asked at last.

“Let me find a place where I can stash him for a few days,” I said. “Bayta’s on her way to help with the move, so you don’t have to be involved with that if it makes you uncomfortable. A couple of days will hopefully buy us enough time to figure out what they’re up to.”

“If he is allied with others, his disappearance will not go unnoticed,” Emikai pointed out.

“True, but a complete disappearance is a lot more enigmatic and disconcerting than having him pop up in the local nexus lockup,” I said. “Any uncertainty and hesitation on their part is to our advantage.”

“And if they counter by attacking Ms. German?” he asked, his voice dark and ominous. “My contract requires me to protect her.”

“It’s a calculated risk,” I admitted. “But right now, it’s our best option.” I hesitated. “If it helps any, I think they’re more likely to come after me than they are to go after Ms. German. After all, I was apparently the one on today’s menu.”

“Perhaps.” Carefully, Emikai laid the hypo down on the sink. “You ask for several days. I will give you one. If at the end of that time you have no further leads or proof of criminal actions, I must turn him over to the patrollers.”

“It’s a deal,” I said. One day wasn’t much, but it was better than I’d hoped for. “We should have one blood-filled hypo out there in the living room that’s actually real. Let’s go get it and see about sending our friend off to dreamland.”

TEN

It took us a few minutes to figure out which hypo was the useful one, get the needle straightened enough to be functional, dump Terese’s blood, and load the drug from Yleli’s medicine cabinet into it. By then, Blue One was starting to show the first signs of returning consciousness.

Fortunately, the sleeping potion was a potent one, and the twitchings and random grunts faded quickly away as the drug did its magic.

Our next task was a quick search of the apartment. From the way Blue One had been talking before our fight, I was beginning to wonder if there had been an actual purpose to Yleli’s murder. But I wasn’t ready yet to give up on my inferior Human way of seeing the universe in terms of cause and effect, and so Emikai and I went through the papers in his file cabinet and sifted through drawers and closets in the hope of finding something that would explain why a lowly Proteus Station medical tech had been worth killing.

We had finished our first search, and Emikai had started on a more detailed one, when Bayta and Ty arrived.

To my annoyed surprise, they weren’t alone.

“What is this, a party?” I demanded, glaring at Minnario as he floated through the doorway into the apartment. “Bayta, what in hell’s name—?”

“He wanted to help,” Bayta said, her tone just barely on the civil side of snappish. “I asked him to look up on his encyclopedia if
msikai-dorosli
could be used to carry things, and he said he could do better than that.”

I took a deep breath, willing myself to calm down. Bayta’s edgy defiance was a sure sign that she’d done what she’d thought to be right, knowing full well that I would probably be furious about it when I found out. The tension in her face also showed she’d continued to worry about my reaction the entire way here. “I appreciate his willingness to help,” I said in as controlled a voice as I could manage. “The problem is that even though he’s my attorney, he’s also an officer of the Filiaelian court. That means he can’t just sit back and watch a crime being committed. He has to report it.”

“What crime?” Bayta shot back.

“Kidnapping, for starters,” I said. A small voice at the back of my mind warned me that making a handy checklist for Minnario to refer to was probably not a good idea. But as was usually the case with those small voices, I ignored it. “Also criminal restraint, trespassing, medicating without proper credentials—”

[Please,] Minnario interrupted, one hand waving for attention, his eyes on the transcript on his display as it tried to keep up with our argument. [Mr. Compton, in general your analysis is correct. But in this case, fortunately, it’s not.]

“What’s the part that’s wrong?” I growled.

[The part that defines me as an officer of the court,] he said. [As you know,
Kuzyatru
Station is running on the Slisst Protocols. Those state that an attorney isn’t simply a defendant’s advocate, but also his partner and second in this form of combat. Though I’m required to turn over any evidence involved with the specific case at issue, I’m
not
required to impugn my client’s character or actions by bringing up anything outside of the case that he might have done.]

He gave me one of his lopsided smiles. [Including anything that he might still be doing, or that might be construed as criminal.]

I looked at Emikai. “Is he right?” I asked.

“I do not know,” Emikai said thoughtfully. “I have not studied the Protocols extensively.” He gestured to Minnario. “But he clearly has. Unless offered proof to the contrary, I would trust his interpretation.”

[Actually, I’m more concerned about
Logra
Emikai,] Minnario continued, eyeing Emikai warily. [As a former Filiaelian enforcement officer, his duties and responsibilities are far more rigid than my own.]

“Fortunately, they’re also a bit vague,” I said. “Moreover, since he agrees there are indications of wrongdoing on the part of our sleeping friend here, he’s agreed to give me a little slack. Specifically, I have one day to dig up something concrete before he brings this to the patrollers.” I cocked an eyebrow at Emikai. “Correct?”

“Correct,” Emikai said. He still didn’t look happy with the situation, but there was nothing in his expression or tone that might indicate he was thinking of reneging on his promise.

“Meanwhile, that clock is ticking merrily along,” I continued, turning back to Minnario. “You told Bayta you could help. How?”

[With my chair, of course,] he said, as if it was obvious. [Its lifting capability is provided by a set of eight Shorshic thrusters. As a highly redundant system, though, it will function quite well with only three of them.]

Leaving us five to use in getting Blue One out of here. “How hard are they to remove?”

In answer, Minnario touched a couple of controls, then reached over the side of his chair and got a grip on the nearest of the cylinders poking out from beneath his chair. He gave the cylinder a half turn, and to my astonishment the tube popped right out. [Not very,] he said, holding it up for my inspection.

“I’ll be damned,” I said, frowning as I took it from him. The whole chair was obviously designed to be operated from the main control board, yet this individual thruster also had its own on/off switch and level and focus controls. “It has its own power supply, too?”

[Yes, it’s fully self-contained,] Minnario said.

I shook my head in amazement as I handed the thruster back to him. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a chair design like this before.”

[As far as I know, it’s the only one,] Minnario said, a note of pride in his voice. [I travel a great deal, and had it custom-designed and built this way so I could swap out defective thrusters without having to take apart the entire chair.]

“Very efficient,” I said, bending over and peering at the underside of the chair. The thrusters were arranged down there in a three-by-three array. “You said there were eight of them?”