Judgment at Proteus (43 page)

I was on my own.

“That depends on the kind of broadening you had in mind,” I said, easing my knees to the side so that I’d have at least a halfway decent chance of getting my legs out from under the table when he made his move.

He gave a short, amused little whinny. “Calm yourself, Compton,” he said. “I haven’t come here to destroy you. I could have done that anytime in the past fourteen days. I’m here merely to offer you truth.” He cocked his head to the side. “And to seek your advice.”

“I’m flattered,” I said. “Afraid I’m not feeling very consultative at the moment.”

“I can hardly blame you,” the Shonkla-raa said, his voice suddenly low and earnest. “After what you and your friends went through on
Kuzyatru
Station, I can well imagine the veil of suspicion and anger through which you see us.” He cocked his head again. “That’s why I’ve come here this evening. I wished to set the record straight.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” I said. This ought to be good. “Go ahead.”

“Firstly, I must apologize for the misguided zeal of my companions,” he said, still using that solemn, used-marshland-salesman voice. “They jumped to the conclusion that you were a deadly enemy, someone to be destroyed at all costs.”

“And I’m not?”

“Not at all,” he said. “As I’ve observed your interactions with the Modhri aboard this train, I’ve come to realize that you are, in fact, merely a pawn.”

“Interesting,” I said. “Not very flattering, though.”

“You would do well to put your Human pride aside for a moment,” he said severely, a hint of the old familiar Shonkla-raa arrogance peeking momentarily through. “We’re speaking about warfare and survival.”

“No, we’re speaking about recruitment,” I corrected. “You
are
trying to talk me into switching sides, aren’t you?”

“The premise in your question is flawed,” he said flatly. “The Modhri isn’t on your side.
You
are on
his
. He’s using you, making you as much a tool as any of his Eyes.”

“And your side will treat me better?”

He drew himself up. “My side will win, Compton,” he said, the earnestness in his voice taking on an edge of darkness. “It’s inevitable. We’ve unlocked the secrets of the Shonkla-raa of old, the ability to tune Filiaelian minds to the telepathic frequencies of all known species.”

“Except for Humans, who haven’t got any telepathic frequencies,” I reminded him. “And your little artificial-insemination program isn’t going to change that.”

He snorted, his nose blaze darkening. “That program is a pointless toy. But what of it? Do you really think your small cluster of Human worlds can hold out against the might of the reborn Shonkla-raa and the weight of the entire galaxy?”

“Well, when you put it
that
way, I suppose not,” I conceded. “But we must be of
some
use to you. Otherwise, why the sales pitch?”

“Your people are of no use,” he said with a dismissive sniff. “But you, Frank Compton, are another matter.”

He leaned back in his seat, eyeing me thoughtfully. “There’s a chapter of your Western Alliance history, two hundred and more years ago, called the War Between the States. You’re familiar with it?”

“Of course,” I said. “I’m rather impressed that you are.”

“One must study the peoples one intends to conquer and rule,” he said, waving casually. “Before the conflict began, a general named Robertee-lee was offered the command of the Northern armies. He refused, choosing instead to command the forces of his native South. The war was long and devastating, costly in lives and property, and though Robertee-lee and those under his command fought hard, in the end they were defeated. Am I incorrect?”

“No, that pretty much covers the gist of it,” I said. “Your point?”

“My point is that some historians believe that if Robertee-lee had instead accepted the North’s offer the war would have been over in weeks, sparing many lives and vastly decreasing the subsequent turmoil and bitterness.”

“Ah,” I said, nodding. “So you’re saying I’m the modern Robert E. Lee, and that if I’ll just come over and assist your side with strategy and tactics it’ll be over so much more painlessly?”

“Exactly,” he said. “But more importantly, Earth and the rest of your people will be safe from the coming chaos.”

“At least until you finish beating down everyone else?”

“Not at all,” he said. “I’m offering you and your people an alliance. In exchange for your services, we’ll leave your worlds and your people strictly alone.”

I snorted. “Big offer. Your soldiers of choice are Modhran walkers, and we’ve managed to keep the Confederation pretty much free of them.”

“Which isn’t to say we couldn’t import all we needed,” he pointed out. “Nonetheless, I repeat my offer: if you work for us, the coming war will pass your worlds by. Your people will be free to live their lives as they themselves choose. We would even grant them free run of the galaxy, to roam wherever they wish, with all the rights and privileges we intend to grant our own Filiaelian people.”

“Sounds way too generous,” I said. “What would their task be in your New Order? Stoking the cremation furnaces or something?”

“They would have no duties of any sort,” he assured me. “Only to live in contentment and freedom.”

“And all this because of the value of my service to you?” I shook my head. “I have
got
to talk to the Spiders about raising my pay grade.”

“Few people understand a warrior’s true value,” the Shonkla-raa said sagely. “Especially not his allies. Only his enemies have such clarity of vision.”

“Probably has something to do with looking down the wrong end of a gun barrel,” I said. “This alliance you mentioned. Would you be willing to write a contract to that effect?”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation.

A shiver ran up my back. Either he was an extraordinarily good actor, or he fully meant the offer he’d just pitched. Every Filiaelian was brought up to respect legal contracts, and even a soulless Shonkla-raa should at least hesitate before declaring his willingness to commit fraud. “Good to hear,” I said lamely.

“But I don’t ask for an answer now,” he went on. “Consider my offer. Consider also the odds against you, and the potential for destructive vengeance against your people should they join the rest of the galaxy in defying us.” He lowered his voice. “And observe, too, the way the Modhri acts and speaks to you. He’s not the ally he claims. He has his own objectives, and will pursue them in his own way.”

“Don’t we all.”

He eyed me a moment longer in silence, then stood up. “I’ll come to you again at journey’s end. At that time, I’ll expect your answer.”

“I’ll be sure to give your proposal every bit of thought that it merits,” I assured him. “In the meantime, if I should want to discuss it further, who shall I ask for?”

For a moment he eyed me, and I wondered how good his ear was at detecting Human sarcasm. “I am
Osantra
Riijkhan,” he said.

“Nice to meet you,” I said. “And while I consider all of your points, you might want to consider a couple of mine. One, the old Shonkla-raa never conquered Earth. Maybe it was just the fact that we weren’t telepathic, like
Usantra
Wandek thought. But maybe there was something else. Something a little more dangerous.”

“Such as?”

“I have no idea,” I said. “That’s why you might want to think about it. Fact number two: even with all their numbers and weapons, not to mention having the whole galaxy under their dominion, they were still destroyed.”

“Irrelevant,” Riijkhan said calmly. “There were far more peoples and cultures arrayed against us than exist now.” He cocked his head. “Another possible consequence of defiance you would do well to remember.”

“Oh, I will,” I promised softly, my stomach tightening. Those peoples and cultures didn’t exist anymore because they’d been obliterated in the Shonkla-raa’s death throes. “Do remember, though, that none of those genocided races were around to help me when I killed
Asantra
Muzzfor. I did that all by myself.”

His nose blaze darkened. “Yes, the last message from
Kuzyatru
Station included that claim. I don’t find it believable.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “Neither did
Usantra
Wandek. Of course, he’s dead now, too, along with quite a few of his compatriots.”

Riijkhan snorted. “Again, irrelevant,” he insisted. “The deaths you speak of weren’t a result of any great combat skill in your possession. You defeated them only through the use of a trick.”

“Of course I used a trick,” I said. “That’s what tactics is all about. Coming up with tricks that work.”

For a long moment he stared at me. Then, he gave a small shake that began at his head and ran, dog-like, through the rest of his body. “All the more reason for us to hire you,” he said. “I’ll see you at journey’s end, Frank Compton.” Turning, he strode from the bar and headed forward toward the first-class cars.

I gave him a thirty-second head start. Then, downing the last of my iced tea, I headed off after him. I had the Modhri’s list of probable Shonkla-raa agents, but it never hurt to check out such things for myself. With luck, Riijkhan would take a moment to consult with his minions, or at least nod to them on his way back to his compartment.

I reached the end of the dining/bar car, punched the release, and stepped through the sliding door into the vestibule. A few quick steps, another tap on the release at the vestibule’s other end, and I stepped into the rear of the number-one first-class coach car.

And came to a sudden halt. Standing in a triangle formation facing me at the rear of the car were three of the four Shonkla-raa agents the Modhri had fingered for me, with only Scrawny absent. A few steps behind them, Riijkhan had turned back to face me. “You spoke of tricks and tactics,” he said. “I offer you the opportunity to demonstrate.” He gestured around at the scattering of closed sleeping canopies around him. “My apologies for not providing you with a proper audience.”

Turning, he continued down the car to the end. He punched the release and kept going, disappearing as the vestibule door slid shut behind him.

“And now,” the Filly in the center said, speaking softly as if concerned he might awaken one of the sleeping passengers. “Let us see how a Human fights.”

“And how a Human bleeds,” the one on my right added.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I apologized. “The first rule of tactics is to never take on superior odds.” With that, I took two quick steps backward, slapped behind me at the door release, and ducked back into the vestibule.

Apparently, rumors of my courage had preceded me. The door was already closing between us before any of them broke from their stunned paralysis at my unexpected demonstration of cowardice. I caught just a glimpse of them making a mad rush forward as the door finished sliding shut. Taking a half step backward, I waited.

And as the door opened and the first of them came charging through, I snapped a kick into his upper torso.

Emikai had warned me that a professional fighter might have had his heart sac area strengthened against such attacks. It was instantly obvious that this particular Filly, at least, wasn’t a professional fighter. He went down like an empty bag, slamming the side of his head hard enough against the floor to show he wasn’t faking. The second Filly faltered in his own charge as he stumbled over the obstacle that I’d unexpectedly dropped in front of him. A flash of surprise and malice crossed his face as he threw his arms up to protect his torso and heart sac.

So instead I kicked him in his right upper-leg nerve center, collapsing the leg out from under him.

Desperately, he threw his arms wide, trying to prevent himself from falling by bracing himself against the sides of the vestibule. The maneuver actually succeeded, stopping his fall just long enough for me to cock my leg back and send a kick to his heart sac. He dropped on top of the first Filly and lay still.

Leaving the last Filly goggling at me as the vestibule door closed behind him.

“Unless,” I said mildly, “you can find a way to decrease those odds.” I lifted my hands into one of the Filly combat stances Emikai had taught me. “Shall we see how you do at one-on-one?”

Apparently, Shonkla-raa minionhood didn’t include dying unnecessarily for the cause. With a final look at the two crumpled figures at his feet, he slapped the door release and hotfooted it out of there.

I waited until the door had closed again behind him. Then, keeping an eye on my two downed attackers, just in case, I headed back toward the safety of my room.
Osantra
Riijkhan, I suspected, wouldn’t be very happy when he found out how the evening had gone.

Then again, maybe he would.

*   *   *

I didn’t say anything to Bayta right away, since she was still talking to Terese and I didn’t want to worry the girl. But it was clear from the tension in Bayta’s face as I came in that she already knew. Apparently, the Spiders hadn’t been as absent during the confrontation as I’d thought.

Bayta didn’t say anything, either. But within five minutes of my arrival she found an excuse to leave Terese in their half of our double compartment and to join me on my side, closing the dividing wall between us.

The wall had barely snicked shut when she was up in front of me, her hands gripping my upper arms, her face tight with worry as she gazed into my eyes. “Are you all right?” she asked anxiously.

“I’m fine,” I said, reaching up and resting my arms reassuringly on her shoulders. “They never laid a hand on me.”

“I meant—” She broke off.

“You mean what am I going to do when we reach Homshil and
Osantra
Riijkhan wants an answer to his recruitment pitch?” I asked, easing her back and sitting us both down on the curved couch that had folded out from the dividing wall as it closed.

“Yes,” she said, her voice dark. “He may have more people and resources assembled by the time we get there.”

I shrugged. “I’m sure he will. For that matter, he’s probably got more resources already on this train. That’s what that whole nonsensical attack was all about.”