“Oh,” I said, frowning. That wrinkle hadn’t even occurred to me. “That wouldn’t be so good, would it? So where is the colony?”
“Interwoven in the tissue around his left optic nerve,” Minnario said. “Regrettably, in many ways Isantra Kordiss will be of only limited use. I will see what he sees through that eye, but will not be able to access his other senses. Nor will I be able to offer suggestions for him to follow.”
I nodded. “He’s a spy, but not a saboteur. Excellent. Use him wisely.”
“I fully intend for us to do so,” Minnario assured me.
“Us?” I asked, frowning at the odd pronoun. “I thought you were an I.”
“I am.” Minnario hesitated. “By us, I was referring to myself … and you.”
“You and me,” I said, my voice sounding flat in my ears.
Minnario seemed to brace himself. “I’ve now experienced what it’s like to be a slave, Compton,” he said, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “You can’t possibly envision what it’s like. To have your mind and heart invaded, to hear the gloating arrogance of your master as he turns your hands to his own purposes. It’s the most horrible experience one can possibly go through.”
“I can imagine,” I sympathized, wondering if he appreciated the true irony here. I personally didn’t know what that was like, but the millions of people the Modhri had turned into walkers were living a version of that exact same slavery. The only reason they didn’t also get the gloating part was because the Modhri blacked them out when he took them over.
“No, you can’t,” he countered tautly. “I’ve had a taste of what will become of me if the Shonkla-raa ever again rise to power.” His gaze defocused, his expression that of someone seeing hell itself coming for him. “I can’t let that happen. I won’t be their slave. Not ever.”
An odd sensation formed in the pit of my stomach. Were we really heading where it looked like we were heading? “What exactly are you saying?” I asked carefully. “That you want me to help you take down the Shonkla-raa?”
Slowly, his eyes returned from the terrible future to the only slightly less ominous present. “You misunderstand,” he said quietly. “I was designed as a spy, not a warrior. I have none of a warrior’s skills or intellect. Even with your help—” He shivered and shook his head. “I could never defeat the Shonkla-raa.”
He leaned forward, a sudden new intensity in his eyes. “But you are a warrior. I’ve experienced your battles against me, and I’ve now seen your battles against the Shonkla-raa. Of all those I’ve encountered across the galaxy, you are the one who stands the best chance of pushing back this threat.”
He drew himself up. “I don’t ask for your help, Frank Compton. I instead offer you mine. Completely, totally, unconditionally.”
I looked past his shoulder to where Bayta and Terese were still talking quietly together. “Fine,” I said. “Let’s talk ground rules. I’m in charge. I give an order, you carry it out. I ask for intel, you supply it. Anything I want from you, you give me.”
“Accepted,” the Modhri said without hesitation.
“And I want to meet the governing body,” I added. “Or whatever you call the part of you that makes overall policy decisions. Not that I don’t trust your sincerity, but I’d like to see a little more weight behind this offer.”
“Also accepted,” the Modhri said. “But you need not worry about that. During the two weeks of Quadrail travel after we left the super-express I sent many messages to the segment-prime.”
“That’s the mind segment based on Yandro?”
Minnario’s mouth twisted in an ironic smile. “Yes,” he confirmed. “All the components of the Modhri—all the parts that make me what I am—all of me recognizes the danger. And all of me accepts your leadership in defeating it.”
“Okay,” I said, eyeing him closely. A sudden, right-angle turn in my universe … and yet, it somehow wasn’t nearly as brain-numbing as it should have been. Perhaps on some level I’d already seen where our temporary alliance aboard the super-express and Proteus Station had been going. “For the moment, I can give you a tentative yes. But I’ll still want to discuss things directly with the segment-prime.”
“Of course,” he said, and there was no mistaking the relief in his voice. Had he really been so terrified, I wondered, that I would turn him down? “The segment-prime will speak with you at any time of your choosing.” His misshapen mouth puckered. “And I expect you and Bayta will also need to consult with her masters among the Chahwyn.”
I inclined my head. “Touché, in turn,” I said. “One final warning.” I locked eyes with him. “From this point on, Bayta and I and any other allies I pull into this are off-limits to your recruitment efforts. If it even looks like you’re trying to get us into touching range of Modhran coral, the deal will be off.”
Minnario snorted. “Be assured, Compton, that that’s the easiest promise of all. Do you think I’d be foolish enough to risk dulling your capabilities by tainting your thoughts and ideas with my own? I need you—this war needs you—exactly as you are.”
“As long as we’re clear.” I puffed out a lungful of air. This entire conversation, not to mention the deal I’d just made, was skating right on the edge of certifiably insane.
And yet, the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. After all, the kind of infiltration and intel-gathering I had in mind for the Modhri was exactly what he’d been designed for in the first place.
Not to mention the fact that using those abilities against the philosophical descendants of the despots who’d created him rather appealed to my sense of irony. “Okay, then,” I said. “Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
Minnario frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing,” I said. “A classic line from a Human dit-rec drama. Casablanca. Not important.”
“I will have to view that someday.”
“Yes, you should,” I agreed. “I think you’d like it.”
* * *
I had thought that Minnario might take the journey with us back to Earth. But we’d barely reached the safety of the Ilat Dumar Covrey Quadrail station when, stunned and dumbfounded by the fact that his supposed medical transfer to Proteus had actually been some kind of mix-up, he immediately booked passage aboard the next train for his proper treatment center in the Morak Trov Lemanab system. He accepted my thanks for his legal assistance, wished me well in any future problems with the Filiaelians, and headed off into the heart of the Filiaelian Assembly.
And as he traveled, he no doubt pondered this brand-new symptom he’d developed, this recurring problem of persistent mental blackouts.
“Do you think we can trust him?” Bayta asked quietly as she, Terese, and I made our way across the crowded station toward the platform where we’d be picking up our own train back to Venidra Carvo.
“He could have betrayed us,” I reminded her. “He didn’t. He could have infected us so that he’d have direct access to my allegedly brilliant strategic and tactical abilities. He didn’t do that, either. Besides, his reason for opposing the Shonkla-raa rings pretty true.”
“Because he doesn’t want to be a slave.” She eyed me. “I suppose you find that funny.”
“I find it ironic,” I corrected. “Not necessarily the same thing. And frankly, having now seen the Shonkla-raa in action, I’ll take any help I can get.”
“I’m not sure my people will accept this,” she warned, lowering her voice still further.
“They’ll be welcome to voice any objections,” I assured her. “Provided they can also offer some practical alternatives.”