Judgment at Proteus (45 page)

“It’s more than a gesture,” the woman insisted. “It’s a step toward my future.”

“Is it?” I countered, gesturing at the old woman. “What about her? You haven’t told
her
what she’s carrying inside her, have you?”

The woman’s lip twitched. “It was deemed that she would be unable to accept the truth,” the Modhri said reluctantly.

“He’s got that right,” Morse put in gruffly. “I can tell you it was a hell of a surprise to have my mind suddenly talking back to me. Thought I’d finally gone round the bend.”

“I can imagine,” I said. “But if you’re the Modhri’s future, it does rather bring up the question of what happens to the Modhri’s past. What happens to all the walkers like her who
can’t
handle the shock?”

“What do you wish me to do?” the Modhri countered. “Order the colonies within all of those Eyes to die?”

“And if I gave you that order?”

The woman’s face tightened. “Don’t ask me to do that,” she warned, her voice dark and grim. “Don’t ever ask me to do that. Ever.”

“Take it easy,” I said, thrown a little by the Modhri’s reaction. “And watch your tone. You’ve agreed to follow my orders, remember? Besides, none of your individual colonies are of lasting importance.”

“Don’t ever ask such a thing of me,” the Modhri said again.

“Don’t push it, Compton,” Morse warned quietly. “You know what happens when a mind segment starts losing pieces.”

I grimaced. I did, too. It was the loss of two of his component parts to the murderer on our first super-express that had pushed that mind segment into making an alliance with me in the first place. “I understand your feelings,” I said. “But this is war. The odds are very high that some of us won’t live through it. Possibly none of us. You say you’ll follow my orders. But will you still say that when your walkers start dying and your mind segments feel their lives slipping away?”

“Compton, what the hell are you doing?” Morse asked. “You trying to kink the whole deal?”

“I’m trying to make sure he’s fully counted the cost,” I said. “The Modhri is like a wolf. He’s predatory, driven to grow and take over everything around him. That could make him an unreliable ally, especially if he’s going to argue every order on the grounds that it could hurt a little.”

“Compton—”

“It also makes him an unpleasant friend,” I continued. “You’d have a hard time finding people who would want a wolf living with them. You’d never know when something would set it off, and you’d suddenly be turned into lunch. Or a mindless puppet, rather.”

“I am what I am,” the old woman said, the sadness in her voice even more pronounced. Clearly, the Modhri was wondering if I was having second thoughts about our deal. “I am what I was created to be.”

“And if you’re talking about me, I have no problem with our current relationship,” Morse added.

“I understand that,” I said, nodding. “But you’re an extraordinary person. Most people, as I say, wouldn’t live with a wolf.” I raised my eyebrows. “But a lot of people are more than happy to share their lives with a loyal, trustworthy dog.”

I looked back at the old woman. “Tell me, Modhri. What would you do if you were offered the chance to change from a wolf into that loyal, trustworthy dog?”

Her forehead wrinkled. “I don’t understand.”

“You said you were the way you were created,” I told him. “So are all the rest of us. But none of us has to stay that way. We can change.
You
can change. The question is whether you’re willing to do so.”

For the first time the woman’s eyes opened. “How?” she asked.

I braced myself. The next thirty seconds would make or break this whole deal. “You invite in the Abomination.”

“The what?” Morse asked, frowning. “What the hell is—?” Abruptly, he broke off. “Oh,” he said in a suddenly subdued tone.

“What’s an Abomination?” Terese asked.

“It’s exactly what I just said: a calm, loyal dog to the Modhri’s wolf,” I told her. “Modified coral, modified walkers. They actually call themselves the Melding—
Abomination
is the Modhri’s term.” I frowned at Morse as something suddenly hit me. “In fact, now that I think about it, the Melding is exactly the same format that the Modhri’s running with Agent Morse right now.”

“It would change me,” the old woman said, her voice trembling now. “I would never again be the same.”

“Yes, that’s true,” I said, putting all the soothing confidence and sympathy into my voice that I could. “And I understand that change can be frightening, especially a change of this magnitude. I also know you fought the whole idea of that change once before.”

“You were there,” Morse murmured.

“Very much so,” I agreed. “But the situation’s changed. It’s no longer a choice of living as the Modhri or living as the Melding. It’s a question of living free or as the Shonkla-raa’s slave.”

The woman shivered. “It can’t work,” she murmured tautly. “It would change me. It can’t work.”

“Yes, it can,” I assured the Modhri. “It will. The Melding’s a cooperative partnership, which is what you’ve stated you want to be.”

“And the Melding coral isn’t truly alien to you,” Bayta added quietly. “It’s only a modification of what you already are. The change won’t be nearly as large or as terrible as you think.”

“But whatever the change, it will be permanent,” the Modhri said.

“Probably,” I conceded, watching the old woman’s face. The Modhri was teetering on the edge, fear and hope pulling in opposite directions.

I braced myself. Time to play my final card.

“There’s one other thing to consider,” I said. “Bayta’s right about the Melding coral being similar to yours. But it’s not identical, and as a result the people in the Melding run on a slightly different telepathic frequency than you do.” I paused, waiting for the Modhri to find the obvious conclusion for himself.

Morse got it first. “The Shonkla-raa may not be able to control them,” he said, an edge of cautious excitement in his voice. “
Or
to control us once we’ve combined with them.”

“That’s my hope,” I said, nodding. “Now, it may be that the Shonkla-raa will still be able to affect the Melding the same way they do the Spiders and Bayta, which pretty much freezes them in confusion. But having your Eyes standing around like statues instead of actively shooting at us will go a long way toward making you useless as a weapon.”

“Agreed,” the Modhri said. The fear was still in his voice, but the hesitation was gone. He was doing this to get out from under the Shonkla-raa’s thumb, and any step in that direction was a good one. “I accept your offer. How do we proceed?”

“We start by bringing the same offer to the Melding,” I said. “Bayta and I will do that. While we’re gone, I suggest you send some of your Eyes to Homshil, Jurskala, and other major Quadrail centers in the area. The more mind segments who get the word, the faster we’ll be able to get the whole Modhri community up to speed on the plan.”

“You think that’s wise?” Morse asked. “The more we spread the word, the easier it’ll be for some wandering Shonkla-raa to grab an Eye at random and find out what we’re up to.”

“Let them,” I said as casually as I could manage. I was, in fact, counting on the Shonkla-raa doing that very thing. “Knowing that we’re going to alter the Modhri’s character won’t do them a damn bit of good until they know what direction that alteration will take.”

“Because they can’t adjust their control tone and telepathic frequency until they know what ours will be,” Morse said, nodding. “They might be able to adjust long-term, but not short-term.”

“And with luck, short-term is all we’ll need,” I agreed. “As for you, I’m thinking I’d like you to come along with Bayta and me. Ride shotgun, and all that.”

Morse’s forehead creased. “Are you sure? I’m as vulnerable as anyone else.”

“In theory, yes,” I said. “But as far as I know, the Shonkla-raa have never tried their bag of tricks on a Human walker before. You might surprise them.”

“Or I might not,” Morse warned.

“It’s worth the risk,” I said firmly.

“You’re the boss.” Morse’s eyes flicked to Terese. “Or I could let you two go and I could escort Ms. German back to Earth.”

“Yes, let’s do that,” Terese spoke up before I could answer.

“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “We know the Shonkla-raa still want you, and we also know they have some sort of force on Earth that hunts for pregnant women to exploit. We can’t risk you going back yet.”

“And how is that
your
decision?” Terese demanded.

“Because right now we’re the only ones who can protect you,” I said.

“Is it me you care about?” she shot back. “Or this?” She jabbed a finger toward her belly.

“We care about you both,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s what Aronobal said, too,” she said acidly. “My life isn’t your business, Compton, and I’m done with this.” She gestured to Morse. “You—take me back to Earth. Now.”

“I’ll be happy to take you back to the Terra Quadrail station, if that’s what you want,” Morse said gravely. “But as you just heard, I have other important duties I need to perform. I can’t take you all the way to Earth.”

“Fine,” Terese said. “I can get back on my own.”

“Of course,” Morse said. “But Compton’s right. Once our protection is removed, the Shonkla-raa and their agents will have little trouble taking your child.”

Terese snorted. “They can have him.”

“And since he’s not yet developed enough for them to risk removal,” Morse continued smoothly, “they’ll need to take you along with him. And to keep you for several more weeks.”

“Until they think it’s safe enough for them to cut you open and take him out,” I added.

Terese swallowed hard. “You’re just trying to scare me.”

“We’re trying to give you the realities of the situation,” Morse said. “Staying with Compton and Bayta may be uncomfortable for you. But it won’t be nearly as uncomfortable as being in Shonkla-raa hands again.”

Terese looked like she was ready to chew sand. But she just sighed. “Fine,” she muttered. “Whatever.”

“So it’s settled,” I said. “Bayta, Terese, Morse, and I will head out to talk to the Melding, while you send some Eyes to play Paul Revere.”

“And then?” the Modhri asked.

“I’ll let you know once I’ve talked to the Melding,” I said.

“You must have some thoughts,” the Modhri persisted.

“I have a few,” I said. “It would be best if we didn’t discuss them just yet.”

“Compton—”

“No, he’s right,” Morse said. “The Shonkla-raa can’t freeze him and demand he give up state secrets. They can do that with us. The less we know, the better.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Bayta, we’ll take the tender back to Homshil and pick up a regular train.”

“I suppose this Melding’s halfway across the galaxy,” Terese said sourly.

“Not nearly that far,” the Modhri assured her. “They’re in an unspecified system near Sibbrava in the Cimmal Republic. Approximately a ten-day journey from here.”

Terese stared at the old woman. “You already
know
where the Melding is? I thought they were a big fat secret.”

“I know only the approximate area,” the old woman said. “Not the precise location.”

“The Modhri knows a great deal about the galaxy,” I said. “It’s one of the things that makes him such a useful ally. Bayta, get the tender fired up, and let’s get moving.”

*   *   *

The last couple of weeks aboard the super-express had seen a slow but steady opening up of Terese’s defenses, at least toward Bayta. That relaxation of tension had faltered a bit during the seven-hour trip to Yandro, but I’d put that down to Terese’s very reasonable annoyance at being hauled out of her comfortable surroundings and loaded aboard a Spider tender.

Now, as we left the hope of a quick return to Earth behind and headed back toward Homshil in that same tender, I discovered her walls had once again gone up.

A logical, rational person would have blamed me. Terese, who was neither, blamed all three of us.

I was used to it. Morse didn’t seem to care very much one way or the other.

Bayta was devastated.

She tried to hide it, of course. But I could tell. She’d worked so hard to get Terese to open up, and to be a friend to her, that she couldn’t help but take the teenager’s rejection personally.

What I
wasn’t
expecting was that Bayta apparently didn’t blame me for messing all that up.

That worried me. Bayta and I had been through enough that I expected her to trust me. But Terese’s current situation
was
my fault, at least partially, which should realistically have given rise to at least a little annoyance or frustration on Bayta’s part.

Only it hadn’t. Which strongly implied that she’d figured out what I was up to.

And that didn’t just worry me. It scared the living spit out of me.

Because sure as God made little gray sewer rats there would be Shonkla-raa aboard the train we would be boarding once we reached Homshil. I had no idea how well versed they were in the subtleties of Human psychology, but if they sensed any anomalies in Bayta’s behavior my entire plan could come crashing down around us.

But there was nothing I could do. Not with Terese glowering across the tender where she could listen in on any conversation Bayta and I might have. I would just have to carry on as if nothing was wrong and hope the Shonkla-raa misinterpreted whatever data they managed to collect.

There hadn’t been any way for Bayta to set up our new travel plans from the secret Yandro station. But I’d spent some time with the Quadrail schedule and had concluded we would have less than two hours to wait before the express train I wanted arrived at Homshil.

For once, my timing was dead on. An hour and forty minutes after we stepped off the tender at Homshil we were on our way to Sibbrava.

I’d hoped that our little side trip to Yandro might throw Riijkhan off the scent. No such luck. He hadn’t managed to score a compartment this time, but when I escorted Bayta and Terese to the dining car for our first meal of the trip I spotted him right there in the middle of the first-class coach car.