Judgment at Proteus Read online

  “Thank you,” Bayta said, putting a hand on his shoulder and easing him gently but inexorably all the way out into the corridor. “We’ll wait here until that’s been done.”

  The Filly started to say something else, seemed to change his mind, and merely nodded. He was pulling out his comm when the door slid shut in his face.

  I looked at Bayta. “You’re kidding,” I said.

  “Why not?” she countered, starting along the edge of the room, her eyes darting everywhere. “I stay near Terese where I can watch over her. You stay here, where you can slip into the medical building when no one’s looking and figure out what they’re up to.”

  “And what happens if they do come after Terese, with me a good fifteen minutes away?” I asked. Bayta was heading toward the bed, so I went in the opposite direction, circling the room toward the computer desk.

  “They aren’t going to hurt her,” Bayta said. She reached the bed and knelt down to peer at its underside. “They’d hardly bring her across the galaxy for that.”

  “Unless she isn’t the one they actually care about,” I said, running my fingers beneath the computer desk.

  Bayta paused long enough in her examination of the bed to throw a frown at me. “What do you mean?”

  “In a minute,” I said, studying the edge where the desk met the wall. If the Fillies hadn’t had time to code the lock to our DNA, they probably hadn’t had time to install any listening devices, either, or at least nothing so subtle that we couldn’t spot it.

  Of course, the fact that I wasn’t all that familiar with Filly bugging devices theoretically meant that one of their normal, non-stealthy versions might still be able to slip past us. But listening devices shared certain characteristics, and I figured I had a fair chance of finding anything they might have put in here.

  Bayta was clearly on that same wavelength. One of the hazards of having hung around with me all this time, I supposed. We completed our respective sweeps, meeting halfway around the room. Then, again by unspoken but clearly mutual agreement, we both continued on, each of us now checking the areas the other had already searched.

  We finished without finding anything. I had no doubt that the other room, the one they’d planned for us, was bugged to the ceiling. But this one seemed safe enough, at least for the moment. “Of course, it’s only an assumption that they didn’t already have the lock coded for us,” I reminded Bayta as she sat down on the edge of the bed and I settled into the computer desk chair facing her. “Our helpful native guide might have used that passkey just to throw us off.”

  “I don’t think so,” Bayta said. “I touched the pad on my way in, and there was no click.”

  “Maybe that was because the door was already open.”

  She shook her head. “The first room door was also already open when I touched the pad there, but it still clicked. Why don’t you think they care about Terese?”

  I hesitated. Bayta had already shown she had a soft spot for the young and helpless, first with Rebekah Beach back on New Tigris and then for Terese herself aboard the super-express. I wasn’t at all sure how she was going to react to my current suspicion. “Here’s the score as I see it at the moment,” I said. “You remember, back on the super-express, we speculated the attack on Terese might have been staged as an excuse to get her to Proteus Station?”

  Bayta’s lip twitched. “Yes.”

  “I’ve been thinking about how to prove that,” I said. “So a while ago, when Aronobal brought up the fact that the baby was in trouble, I tossed out the possibility that Terese might want to abort him. Did you notice Wandek’s reaction?”

  Bayta nodded. “He was very upset.”

  “He was more than just upset,” I said. “The way his nose blaze was going, it was clear the whole idea made him furious.” I paused. “As furious as if the baby was his own.”

  Bayta stared at me. “Are you saying,” she said slowly, “that the baby isn’t Human?”

  “No, of course—” I broke off. I most certainly hadn’t been saying that. All I’d been saying, actually, was that Wandek was treating the baby like it was certified Filiaelian property.

  But now that I thought about it, why not? With the Filly obsession with genetic manipulation, why the hell not? “We need to talk to Terese,” I said grimly. “Find out exactly what happened to her.”

  “She won’t talk to you,” Bayta said. The color had come back into her cheeks, and a quietly simmering anger into her eyes. “When do you want me to do it?”

  I started to glance at my wrist, then remembered that Hchchu had taken my watch. “No time like the present,” I said, standing up. “Let’s go see how much longer they’re going to keep her. Maybe you can take her out to dinner.”

  I wasn’t sure my watchdogs would let me into Terese’s examination building a second time, particularly now that we didn’t have an official or even an implied invitation. But they apparently decided that since we’d been inside once, we now had legal run of the place. That could be very useful down the line.

  Unfortunately, that was all we got for our trouble. Aronobal intercepted us outside Terese’s room and told us that the girl’s tests were going to run at least two more hours, and that once they were over she would probably be spending the night in the building under observation instead of going back to her room. She did promise, though, to pass on Bayta’s offer of a dinner invitation for future consideration.

  “Now what?” Bayta asked as we emerged again into the crisp pseudo-Alpine air.

  “We wait for them to be done with her,” I said, running my fingers across the building’s wall and looking up at the eaves. I’d seen other varieties of malleable materials, but this one took the cake for looking and feeling solid. “Just because Aronobal says we can’t talk to her doesn’t mean we actually can’t. You want to grab some dinner while they’re working?”

  “Let’s not go too far away,” she said. “Just because Dr. Aronobal says it’ll take two hours doesn’t mean it actually will.”

  I eyed her. Bayta was on fire, all right. A slow, simmering fire, maybe, but Bayta on fire was not to be trifled with. It almost made me pity whoever had done whatever the hell they’d done to Terese. Almost. “You want to camp out here at the door, or shall we be a little more subtle?”

  Bayta looked around the dome. “Let’s see if we can get into one of the other buildings,” she suggested. “Maybe we can sit by a window and watch for them to bring her out.”

  I looked down at Doug, remembering all those sharp teeth. “As long as you’re willing to take no for an answer,” I said.

  “Of course.” Bayta pointed to a building near the edge of the dome. “That one doesn’t look very busy. Let’s try it.” Without waiting for an answer she headed off. Ty, apparently figuring that Doug already had me adequately covered, trotted off alongside her.

  “Fine,” I murmured as I trailed after her. Bayta on fire was Bayta on fire, but a little healthy caution wouldn’t be out of line, either. Maybe she hadn’t had a good look into the watchdogs’ mouths and didn’t know about all the teeth. Or maybe the prospect of being ripped limb from limb simply didn’t bother her. I made a mental note to see if the entertainment center in her quarters carried any of the versions of The Hound of the Baskervilles.

  We were nearly to the building when I heard someone call my name.

  I turned around. It was Emikai, striding toward us with a determined expression on his face. Fanned out in a moving wedge behind him were four more Fillies wearing the same gray-and-black jumpsuits as the ones who’d hauled me out of the entry bay four hours ago. “Uh-oh,” Bayta muttered.

  “Steady,” I cautioned her. I stood still, keeping my arms at my sides, as they came up to us. “I greet you, Logra Emikai,” I said, nodding to him. “I’m rather surprised to see you still here. I’d have thought that having delivered Ms. German safely to Proteus you’d be on your way elsewhere.”

  “My way is now here,” he said. “My contract has been boug
ht by Chinzro Hchchu. I will remain until he dismisses me.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “And you don’t like that?”

  “I was an enforcement officer,” he reminded me. “My personal preferences are of no account.” He gestured to the Jumpsuits still grouped behind him. “But that is of no account. I have come to tell you that you are summoned. The preliminary hearing on your trial is about to begin.”

  I frowned. “That was quick.”

  “The law as practiced aboard Kuzyatru Station requires justice to be meted out in a timely fashion,” he explained.

  Something with cold feet took a walk up my back. “Not so timely that the defense won’t have a chance to prepare its own case, I hope?”

  “Have no fear,” he assured me. “This is merely a preliminary hearing.” One of the Jumpsuits muttered something under his breath. “And we must leave at once,” Emikai added. “The hour is rapidly approaching, and we have some distance to travel.”

  “How much distance?”

  “The hearing will take place in Sector 16-J,” he said. “That is the core administrative area nearest where we entered the station.”

  I suppressed a grimace. Which would put us a quarter of the way around the station just when Terese was due to be released. How very convenient for someone.

  But there was obviously nothing I could do about it. Emikai might be cajoled or otherwise bargained with, but I very much doubted Hchchu could. “Fine,” I said with a sigh as I took Bayta’s arm. “I presume my attorney’s been notified?”

  “Your pardon,” Emikai said, holding a hand up in front of Bayta. “She will not be permitted to attend.”

  The cold-footed thing on my back broke into a gallop. “That’s absurd,” I insisted. “She’s my assistant.”

  “You have a right to an attorney,” Emikai said. “But I do not think your assistant has any such rights.”

  “You don’t think?” I asked. “You’re an ex-cop. Don’t you know?”

  “Kuzyatru Station currently operates on different rules of law from those I am familiar with,” Emikai said, sounding a bit defensive. “Director Usantra Nstroo and Assistant Director Chinzro Hchchu have chosen to reinstitute the ancient protocols of Slisst.” He cocked his head. “That is why Chinzro Hchchu will be prosecuting you himself. Under the Slisst Protocols, that role falls to a friend or acquaintance of the injured party.”

  “And he was a friend of the Filiaelians I’m supposed to have murdered?” I asked.

  “Not a friend, precisely, but I am told he was acquainted with all of them,” Emikai said.

  “I see,” I said, wondering uneasily if Minnario had even heard of this Slisst Protocol stuff, let alone knew his way around it. “All very interesting, but I’m still a non-Filiaelian accused of a crime in non-Filiaelian territory. My situation still comes under the jurisdiction of cross-empire law.”

  “I believe Chinzro Hchchu is still studying that question,” Emikai said, looking a little uncomfortable. “A final ruling is expected soon. Until then, you must still appear at the hearing.”

  “With my assistant,” I said firmly.

  One of the Jumpsuits stirred. {Why do we waste time?} he demanded. {We’re many. He’s one. Bring him and be done with it.}

  {I hear and obey,} Emikai said reluctantly. “Mr. Compton—”

  “Tell you what,” I put in quickly. “If the big legal minds are still wrestling with this, it’s certainly nothing the two of us are going to solve on our own. Why don’t you call Minnario, clue him in on what’s happening, and get him to the hearing? Then he and Chinzro Hchchu can hash out together whether or not Bayta can watch the proceedings.”

  “That seems reasonable,” Emikai said, a note of relief in his voice as he pulled out his comm. Clearly, the rapid pace of Hchchu’s brand of justice wasn’t sitting well with him, either.

  {The Protocols don’t require this,} Jumpsuit insisted.

  {Neither do they forbid it,} Emikai countered. He punched in a number and lifted the comm to his ear. {This is Logra Emikai,} he said. {I wish to speak with Attorney Minnario chu-DeHak.}

  {This is wasted time,} Jumpsuit muttered.

  I watched him out of the corner of my eye, hoping I wouldn’t have to use any of the combat techniques Emikai had taught me during our sparring sessions. At five-to-one odds, I wasn’t likely to last very long.

  But I sure as hell wasn’t going to let them take me away and drop me into some dark hole somewhere where Bayta wouldn’t even know where to start looking for me. Not without a fight.

  {Understood,} Emikai said.

  I looked back at him. The grimness in his voice was mirrored in his face. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “Chinzro Hchchu has been attempting to contact Attorney Minnario for nearly half an hour,” Emikai said. “There is no answer on his comm. Nor have any patrollers or operational personnel seen him during that time.

  “Your attorney, Mr. Compton, has vanished.”

  FOUR

  The nearest security nexus was ten floors directly above the medical dome. We arrived to find a full-scale search operation already in progress.

  {There continues to be no response from his comm,} a jumpsuited patroller standing by the door reported as Emikai escorted Bayta and me into the room and over to a bank of monitors that stretched all the way up one wall and angled onto part of the ceiling.

  {Keep trying,} Emikai ordered. “He is still not answering his comm,” he translated for my benefit.

  I nodded, looking over the monitors. About half the screens were cycling through visual images of important offices or key intersections, but most of the displays seemed to be readouts of environmental, power, or equipment usage. I spotted two different views of our Alpine medical dome go by in the rotation, one apparently from just above each of the two corridors leading into it. “Do you keep records of any of these images?” I asked.

  “For one hour only,” Emikai said. “Under the Slisst Protocols, anything more is considered a violation of privacy.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” I murmured. But probably very convenient for the Shonkla-raa as they scurried around on whatever nefarious schemes they were up to aboard the station. An excellent reason all by itself for Proteus’s directors to have adopted the Protocols. “I guess we’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way, then,” I continued. “We know Minnario was in the security station with me when our torchferry docked. We start by talking to everyone who was also there at that time, from Chinzro Hchchu on down, and try to track his movements.”

  “That is already being done,” Emikai said, pointing to a display filled with Fili characters. “That is a list of those who have been spoken to, plus summaries of their testimonies to the patrollers. But it has already been over four hours since our arrival, and the trail has started to go dry. Many of the relevant personnel have dispersed to evening meals and quarters.”

  “Unless the Human expert wishes to offer a better method?” a sarcastic voice suggested from behind me.

  I turned. It was Usantra Wandek, working his way toward us through the crowd of Jumpsuits. His blaze was showing the same odd mottling I’d seen during our earlier conversation down in the medical dome. “Greetings, Usantra Wandek,” I said, nodding to him. “Did someone call for medical assistance?”

  “The Nemut has a long list of medical problems,” he said grimly. “His disappearance strongly implies one or more of those problems may have intensified.” He cocked his head. “But my question was serious. Have you any better options to suggest?”

  “Oh, please,” I scoffed. “If you’re going to set a trap, at least make it an interesting one. I was an Intelligence agent—of course I know about the locator transponders in most comms. I also know where they’re located, how they function, and how to disable them.” And, I didn’t add, routinely did so, dropping my comm and Bayta’s out of the system whenever we looked to be going into danger. “And since Minnario apparently hasn’t been located that way, I presume his
locator was in fact disabled. Logra Emikai?”

  “You are correct,” Emikai acknowledged.

  “The more interesting question,” I went on, watching Wandek closely, “is whether Usantra Wandek is suggesting I might have done away with my own lawyer. What reason could I possibly have for doing such a thing?”

  “Who knows how Humans think?” Wandek countered, the mottling of his blaze intensifying a bit. The effect was oddly hypnotic. “More importantly, there can be only a handful of individuals on the station who have the knowledge and skill to disable the transponder.”

  “Really?” I looked at Emikai. “How many of the patrollers aboard Proteus have that skill?”

  “I would guess between one and ten percent,” Emikai said. “I believe many communications techs would also possess the necessary knowledge.”

  “There you go,” I said to Wandek. “Ten percent of the patrollers on a station this size means we’re talking hundreds or thousands of people. And that’s just the Filiaelians.”

  “Do you accuse one of us?” Wandek demanded stiffly.

  “I accuse everyone, and I accuse no one,” I said. “It’s no different than a doctor who suspects all illnesses until he’s narrowed down the list of possibilities.”

  “Perhaps,” Wandek said reluctantly. “Just be certain that your list of possibilities include all aboard Kuzyatru Station, and not merely the Filiaelians.” He turned to Emikai. “I assume you are in charge of this investigation. How do you intend to proceed?”

  I looked at Emikai in mild surprise. “You’re in charge here?”

  “Chinzro Hchchu has assigned me to supervise all matters concerning you and your pending case,” Emikai explained. “Since Attorney Minnario is with you, his disappearance falls within my authority.”

  “So what do we do?” I asked. “Because Usantra Wandek is correct: if Minnario’s lying injured off in some corner, his physical problems could make his situation critical.”

  Emikai gave a whinnying sigh. “Unfortunately, the tools at our disposal are severely limited,” he said. “None of the monitors shows his location, we have no recordings of his movements, and so far no one interviewed remembers seeing him after his departure from the security office over two hours ago.”