“Mr. Frank Compton?”
I turned, tensing, my hand automatically reaching for the Beretta, which was already tucked away in a Spider lockbox ready to be loaded aboard our next train.
But it wasn’t a Shonkla-raa who was striding toward me, or any Filly at all, for that matter. It was a Halka, tall and regal, dressed in the distinctive tricolor layered robes of the Halkan Peerage. A couple of watchful and tough-looking bodyguards trailed at a respectful distance behind him. “I’m Frank Compton,” I confirmed warily. “Do I know you?”
“Senior Ambassador ChoDar of the Halkavisti Empire,” he identified himself formally. “No, we haven’t met. But I believe we may once have had an acquaintance in common. High Commissioner JhanKla.”
I suppressed a grimace. JhanKla and I had met, all right. He’d turned out to be a Modhran walker, he’d tried his best to kill me, and I’d ended up killing him instead. “Yes, the high commissioner and I did meet once or twice, Your Eminence,” I conceded.
“Yes, I thought so,” ChoDar said. “So very regrettable, his mysterious disappearance aboard that ill-fated Quadrail.” He shook his head, chasing the memories away. “But that is the past. Tell me, Mr. Compton, are you and your companions on your way back to our side of the galaxy?”
“Yes, we are,” I said, frowning. Given ChoDar’s rank and position and how thoroughly the Modhri had penetrated the upper echelons of Halkan society, it was almost a dead certainty that he was also a walker. What was the Modhri up to? “Why? Was there some place in the Assembly you thought I might like better?”
“By no means,” he assured me. “As it happens, I too have decided to return to my home. Since we travel the same route, and since you were a friend of High Commissioner JhanKla’s, I’d hoped you and your companions would share my Peerage car during the journey.”
And then I understood. A Halkan Peerage car was one of the standards of galactic elegance, dripping with luxury, comfort, and prestige. More importantly, Peerage cars were always connected to the rear of whatever Quadrail they were traveling with. Nestled snugly inside, we would be isolated, alone, and away from prying Shonkla-raa eyes. “That’s very generous of you, Your Eminence,” I said. “But I wouldn’t want to impose on your hospitality.”
“It would be an honor, not an imposition,” he said. “But I warn you: if you accept, be aware that you won’t be able to change your minds after we’ve left.” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “To be honest, I find Filiaelians to be sometimes wearisome. I have therefore requested the Spiders to omit the usual vestibule connector between our car and the rear baggage car of our train.”
I smiled tightly. Isolated, alone, away from prying eyes, and now completely separated from the rest of the train by a couple of meters of partial vacuum, a barrier even a Shonkla-raa whistle couldn’t penetrate. Unless Bayta and I were willing to be cooped up for the next two months inside a Spider tender, there was no safer way for us to get back to Human space.
The Modhri wasn’t just waiting around for me to make up my mind about accepting him as an ally. He was already behaving like one.
“Thank you, Your Eminence,” I said. “We would be honored to accept your hospitality.”
“I’m pleased,” he said. He smiled, and for just a second his face sagged and his eyes flattened with the telltale signs of a Modhran presence. The Modhri’s version of a knowing wink? “I look forward to whiling away the hours in pleasant conversation with you. An ambassador, after all, hears many things.”
“I’m certain he does.” I looked at Terese, who was oblivious to the true nature of the situation. I looked at Bayta, who understood the situation completely and still was far from sure this was a good idea.
“Especially my particular passion of Filiaelian high opera, and those who sing it,” ChoDar added. “Are you interested in such things, Mr. Compton?”
“Indeed I am,” I said softly. “I look forward to hearing all about it.”
TWENTY
An hour later, as snug and safe as we could reasonably hope to be under the circumstances, we headed out.
It was a potentially stressful situation, given the fact that we were all essentially strangers to one another. But ChoDar was a senior ambassador, and within minutes of our train passing through the station’s atmosphere barrier it was clear that his rank and title hadn’t just been someone’s idea of a last-minute New Year’s gift. He started by personally giving us a tour of his car, chattering away genially the whole time. He introduced us to his two guard-assistants, the servitor who handled most of the day-to-day servant work, and his chef. He even allowed us a tantalizing sample of the sauce the latter was working on for our dinner, a Halkan courtesy that was usually reserved for close friends. By the time he showed us to our sleeping compartments even Terese’s tension had eased noticeably.
Dinner, two hours later, more than lived up to what the samples had promised. Again, ChoDar was the perfect host, keeping the conversation going and filling in any potentially awkward gaps with highly entertaining stories of his experiences traveling around the galaxy on behalf of the Halkavisti Empire.
After dinner came drinks in the lounge and more stories. Terese seemed to be fading rapidly—not surprisingly, given the stress of her pregnancy plus the hell she’d just been through on Proteus—and I made a point of keeping an eye on her.
Sure enough, midway through my second iced tea her eyes drooped closed, and her body slumped limply in her contour chair.
“Spice-broiled pipita often has the same effect on me,” ChoDar commented cheerfully, gesturing to the sleeping girl. “Shall I have YhoTeHeu carry her to her compartment?”
“No, she should be all right here,” I assured him, going over for a closer look at her. She seemed all right.
On the other hand, we really had no idea what Aronobal and the rest of the Shonkla-raa ghouls had done to her back on Proteus. Tomorrow, I decided, I would take a few skin and blood samples from her, unpleasant though that kind of task was to me, and run them through my reader and its sophisticated sensors.
“She certainly should be comfortable enough,” ChoDar commented, fondly patting the arms of his own chair. “These chairs are every bit as restful as the sleeping-room beds.” He yawned, a Halkan facial gesture that those unfamiliar with the species invariably assumed was an angry snarl. “In fact, if you’ll forgive such unhostlike behavior, I feel a small nap of my own coming on.”
“No apology or forgiveness needed,” I assured him. “In fact, I’ve been wondering myself how these chairs sleep.”
“Do try it, by all means,” ChoDar urged sleepily. “We’re all friends here, after all. Until later.”
He closed his eyes. I waited, and within a minute his breathing settled into the long rhythmic pattern of sleep.
I took a deep breath. “Hello, Modhri,” I said quietly.
Even in sleep, ChoDar’s face betrayed the slight but distinctive sagging of Modhran control. “Hello, Compton,” he murmured back. “A greeting to you, as well, Bayta.”
“Good evening, Modhri,” Bayta said. Her voice was polite enough, but I could tell she still wasn’t happy with this whole cozy relationship.
“Before we turn to other matters,” the Modhri said, “be first assured that the Shonkla-raa did nothing of long-term hazard to your companion. My mind segment on the Ilat Dumar Covrey station included two doctors. By the time our train left they had discussed the various medicines and procedures that my Eyes on Kuzyatru Station had seen and concluded that she is in no danger.”
His mouth twitched. “No additional danger, rather,” he amended. “She still carries the same genetic disorders that she had when she first came to the Filiaelian Assembly.”