Judgment at Proteus (9 page)

“Have you any other thoughts?” Emikai asked.

I hesitated. This one, I knew, was
not
going to go over well. “We also need to consider motive,” I said. “Specifically, who would benefit from Minnario’s disappearance.”

To my mild surprise, Emikai was already ahead of me. “You thus name
Chinzro
Hchchu,” he said calmly.

I heard the faint whisper of a dozen necks against jumpsuit collars as every nearby Filly turned toward us. “According to the Slisst Protocols, he’s the one who’ll be prosecuting me,” I pointed out for their benefit. “There are any number of reasons why he might want to delay the proceedings.”

“What about
your
reasons?” Wandek put in.

“Such as?” I asked.

“I am told you were reluctant to attend this evening’s preliminary hearing,” Wandek said. “That hearing has now been unavoidably postponed.”

“Pretty weak motive, if you ask me,” I said. “Especially since the reason for my reluctance was that my assistant Bayta wouldn’t be permitted to attend with me.” I gestured toward Emikai. “And given that I’ve been under direct observation since I first learned about the hearing, it would have been well-nigh impossible for me to have done anything to him.”

“Perhaps Attorney Minnario informed you ahead of the official notification,” Wandek suggested darkly. “Perhaps you called for a meeting to discuss the matter, and you”—he threw a look at Bayta—“
and
your assistant then disposed of him.”

“No,” Emikai said flatly.

Wandek’s blaze went all mottled again. “
No
?” he echoed. “You dare—?”

“They have not been alone aboard
Kuzyatru
Station.” Emikai pointed at Doug and Ty. “Ever.”

Wandek looked at the watchdogs, his expression and posture reminiscent of a schooner that’s just had all the wind knocked out of its sails. “Oh,” he said in a suddenly subdued voice. “No, of course not.”

“The
msikai-dorosli
would not permit them to harm another being,” Emikai went on, in case Wandek hadn’t fully grasped the point. “
Chinzro
Hchchu would have ordered them—”

{Yes, yes, I understand,} Wandek snapped. {Don’t belabor the point.}

{My apologies,
Usantra
Wandek,} Emikai said.

Apparently, the words weren’t enough. Wandek’s hand twitched imperiously, and Emikai bowed his head toward the other. {My apologies,} he repeated.

“If you two can stop babbling a minute, can we get on with this?” I put in. Watching Emikai grovel in front of Wandek was nearly as irritating as Wandek making him do it. “My attorney’s missing. I’d kind of like someone to find him.”

They were still at it an hour later when my growling stomach finally forced me to go with Bayta in search of food. Fortunately, the security nexus included a station with a selection of quick foods available for the duty personnel. I decided Bayta and I qualified, and we had a quick meal there before returning to the monitor room.

Three hours later, when I finally gave up, they still hadn’t found Minnario.

*   *   *

The door to Bayta’s room was still keyed to both our DNA signatures. I opened the door, turned on the lights, and gave the room a quick scan as we walked in. Bayta’s luggage had been delivered and was set neatly at the foot of the bed, but aside from that everything was just the way we’d left it. “What do you think happened to him?” Bayta asked quietly as I closed the door and locked it.

“Nothing good,” I said, crossing to the half-bath and peeking inside. It, too, appeared untouched. “I just wish I knew how they could have gotten to him without
someone
seeing it and coming forward.”

“Maybe whoever saw his abduction or disappearance didn’t realize the significance at the time,” she suggested as she walked over to the bed and stood beside it.

“Maybe,” I said. There was considerably more I wanted to say, facts and speculation both, and from the look on Bayta’s face I could tell she was equally eager to have that same discussion. But this was the room that had been prepared for us, in all senses of that word, and neither of us was interested in having that conversation where little pitchers with big ears would undoubtedly be listening in. “We can hope so, anyway. Well. Good night, I guess.”

“Good night, Frank,” Bayta said.

For a long moment we just gazed across the room at each other. We’d said these same good-nights a thousand times before, and for most of those nights it had been a routine and largely meaningless ritual.

But not tonight. Tonight a Nemut was missing from Proteus Station, with every evidence of foul play. Tonight we were a long ways away from the Tube, with its multitude of Spiders and its weapon-free environment.

And tonight we weren’t going to be sharing a double Quadrail compartment with nothing but a collapsible divider separating us. We were going to be half a kilometer apart, with neither of us able to quickly come to the other’s aid if any of that foul play headed in our direction.

I wanted to say the hell with this, to just lock the door and settle down here for the night where I could protect Bayta while she in turn watched my back. But I didn’t dare. We were already too emotionally close for comfort, and the Modhri was just waiting for his chance to ensnare us.

And if he got me, I would rather die than be the conduit through which he also got Bayta.

So I nodded a last farewell and stepped out into the hallway, Doug padding out beside me. I waited there until I heard the snick of the inner lock, then headed through the quiet corridors toward my own distant quarters.

Most of the space stations I’d visited over my career with Westali had run on a more or less round-the-clock schedule, with a noticeable drop in traffic and activity after midnight but nothing even approaching a complete halt. Proteus Station was different. The corridors were largely deserted as I walked along them, with only the jumpsuited patrollers still out and about. The lights were noticeably dimmer than they’d been when Bayta and I had left the security nexus, but they’d faded gradually enough that I hadn’t really noticed until Doug and I were on the glideway and I realized that I couldn’t make out the same details at the far end that I had when traveling this route earlier that afternoon. I assumed the station’s schedule was set to mimic that of the Fillies’ homeworld, but that was only a guess and with my reader locked up a quarter of the station away there was no way to look that up until I got back to my room and fired up the computer there.

I spent most of the trip trying to think up a fresh approach to finding Minnario. But it had been a long, full day, and I couldn’t marshal enough brain cells to make even a dent in the problem. Maybe in the morning I would be able to think again.

Maybe in the morning Minnario would already be dead.

The receptionist station at the entrance to the medical dome was deserted. A few of the chalets were still showing lights, probably marking the presence of doctors or techs or maybe Shonkla-raa burning the midnight oil. The building where they’d been treating Terese was dark, and I briefly considered seeing if I could sneak inside.

But a closed building at night would almost certainly be on Doug’s forbidden list, and there were all those sharp teeth to consider. Besides, even if Doug didn’t have a problem with it, the two small cameras set on the dome’s inner walls just inside the corridors would hold the images of me breaking and entering for the next hour. With the search for Minnario presumably still going on, the chance that someone would notice me was probably higher than I wanted to risk.

And so I continued on through the dome without stopping. I did, however, make a few mental notes as to which windows in which buildings still showed lights.

I half expected my door to still be sealed, with the techs having forgotten to code the lock to my DNA. But if the renowned Filly efficiency couldn’t locate a lost Nemut, it was at least able to handle routine maintenance. The door opened at my touch on the plate, and I wearily stepped inside.

I was reaching for the light switch when I heard a soft grunt.

I took a long step to the side, out of the potentially lethal backlighting of the low glow from the corridor. Dropping into a combat stance, I tried to pierce the gloom in front of me.

And then, as the door slid closed, I caught a glimpse of something crouching motionlessly beside my bed.

I mouthed a curse, a flood of adrenaline kicking my brain back into gear. The light control was still within reach to my right—a flick of the switch and I would have all the light I needed to see who or what was waiting for me.

But for that first couple of seconds my dilated pupils would be momentarily blinded. If the intruder was ready for that, with optical filters or whatever, those couple of seconds could mean the difference between life and a very quick death. Doug was standing beside me, but his breathing was calm and rhythmic, with no sign of distress or extra alertness. No help for me there.

Or was there? If I picked him up and lobbed him across the room at the crouching figure, it might put the intruder out of action long enough for me to get my eyes adjusted and either jump him or get the hell out of the room. Silently, I squatted down and slid my arms around Doug’s torso—

[Hello?] a Nemuti voice called groggily from the direction of the squatting figure. [Hello? Is someone there?]

For a long moment I just crouched there, my mind spinning on its rails. Then, letting go of Doug, I straightened up again and flicked on the light.

Minnario was half sitting up in bed, one hand shading his squinting eyes against the sudden glare. The figure I’d thought I’d seen lurking beside the bed was nothing more sinister than his support chair. [Mr. Compton,] he said, and there was no mistaking the surprise in his voice. [What in the FarReach are
you
doing here?]

I took a deep breath and reached for my comm. “Someone’s been sleeping in my bed,” I murmured. “And he’s still here.”

*   *   *

[I’m so terribly sorry to have caused such distress,] Minnario apologized, his voice low and embarrassed as he looked around at me, Emikai, and the half-dozen Jumpsuits who had intruded upon his privacy. [I had no idea that I was even considered missing, let alone that foul play was suspected.]

“How did you get in here, anyway?” I asked. “I was told this was my room.”

[As was I,] Minnario said. [Which is what I then told the technician who was keying the lock when I arrived.]

“And it didn’t concern you that he was coding it to my nucleics?”

[I assumed you’d instructed him to do that so you would be able to enter for consultations without my having to come to the door to let you in.] He frowned. [Though now that I think about it, the tech did say something about
me
coming to visit
you
. I confess that I was so tired that the comment didn’t register at the time. I’m so very sorry to have caused such trouble.]

“It is not your fault,” Emikai assured him. He’d come charging into the room in response to my call looking both relieved and annoyed. Now, he just looked tired. “It will be straightened out in the morning.” He turned to one of the Jumpsuits. {Where can we assign Mr. Compton for the night?}

{There’s nothing available in this sector,} the other Filly said, punching keys on a reader. {I can try to find him something in one of the adjoining sectors.}

“There are no other empty rooms nearby,” Emikai translated for me. “Could you perhaps stay with Bayta? It would only be for the one night.”

“No problem,” I said. “In fact, forget about looking for something else. She and I will just share the room as originally planned.”

Emikai’s blaze paled a bit with obvious surprise. “I was told you wished your own quarters.”

I shrugged. “I’ve changed my mind.”

And to my own surprise, I realized that I had. That long, lonely walk from Bayta’s room to this one had finally solidified my misgivings about our forced separation, and I realized that the risk of deepening our emotional involvement was far less than the danger of splitting our forces in the middle of hostile territory. When the Shonkla-raa and Modhri decided to make their move, Bayta and I needed to be standing together as we faced it.

“Very well,” Emikai said, eyeing me another moment before turning to the Jumpsuit with the reader. {Log the fact that Mr. Compton now shares quarters with his assistant,} he ordered.

[A moment,] Minnario put in, reaching down and sweeping the blankets away from his useless legs. [At this point, I believe it would be easier for Mr. Compton and Bayta to move in here and for me to take the other room.]

“How exactly would that be easier?” I asked.

[Because this room is already set for your
msikai-dorosli
,] he said, pointing toward the closet. [It would be more trouble to collect and move it than for me to move myself and my few belongings.]

Frowning, I walked over to the closet and looked in. He was right: jammed into the narrow space were two long dog beds, plus bowls of water and food, plus a hefty bag of the latter over in the far corner.

It was only then that my preoccupied brain suddenly registered the fact that Doug was the only watchdog here with me. Ty, for some reason, had stayed behind with Bayta.

Ty, and all those sharp teeth …

I whipped out my comm and punched in Bayta’s number, my pulse hammering in my throat. “Yes?” Bayta answered.

“Are you all right?” I demanded, my voice harsher than I’d planned.

“I’m fine,” she assured me, her own voice going suddenly tight in reaction. “What’s the matter?”

I took a careful breath. “Nothing,” I said. “I just wanted to tell you we found Minnario. In my room. Rather, in
our
room—he’s decided to swap with you.”

There was a brief pause. “All right,” Bayta said, clearly having trouble following the half-story she was getting. “Do you want me to pack right now?”

“If you would,” I said. “Uh … how is Ty?”

“Ty?” she echoed, sounding confused.

“Yes,” I said. “Any problems with him?”