Two weeks into the trip, that hope came to a sudden stop.
* * *
It was late at night, and Bayta and Terese had gotten into one of the light conversations that Bayta had been nurturing with the girl ever since our departure from Venidra Carvo. Their talks never seemed to get past dit-recs, food, and clothing, but Bayta was being gently persistent, and in this particular instance I had the feeling that the two of them might be on the edge of something a little deeper. Since it was obvious they weren’t going to get serious as long as I was hanging around, I excused myself and headed to the bar end of the dining car.
I was sitting at a rear table, nursing a sweet iced tea and pondering the mysteries of womanhood, when a lone Filly seated with his back to me two tables over pushed back his chair and stood up. I had just enough time to register his oversized throat before he strode casually over and lowered himself into the chair across the table from me. “Hello, Compton,” he said casually.
“Hello, Shonkla-raa,” I managed, matching his tone as best I could with a suddenly racing heartbeat. “Enjoying the trip?”
He gave a small shrug. His nose blaze, I saw, had subtle diagonal stripes built into the mix of browns and tans. It reminded me somehow of sergeant’s stripes. “It has been said that travel broadens the mind,” he said. “Would you care to have your mind broadened, Compton?”
Looking furtively around, I knew, would be taken as a sign of weakness and desperation. With an effort, I kept my eyes on the Filly instead.
Besides, I already knew there was no help for me here. Aside from the two of us, the bar’s current clientele consisted of two Shorshians having a drinking contest and a pear-shaped Cimma lost to the world in his simmering cup of something hot. None of the Modhran walkers was in the room, which under the circumstances was probably a good thing. The server Spider who was supposed to be behind the bar had vanished, either gone off-duty or else on a resupply trip back into his stockroom, eliminating any chance of bringing Bayta and the kwi that was living in her pocket these days.
I was on my own.
“That depends on the kind of broadening you had in mind,” I said, easing my knees to the side so that I’d have at least a halfway decent chance of getting my legs out from under the table when he made his move.
He gave a short, amused little whinny. “Calm yourself, Compton,” he said. “I haven’t come here to destroy you. I could have done that anytime in the past fourteen days. I’m here merely to offer you truth.” He cocked his head to the side. “And to seek your advice.”
“I’m flattered,” I said. “Afraid I’m not feeling very consultative at the moment.”
“I can hardly blame you,” the Shonkla-raa said, his voice suddenly low and earnest. “After what you and your friends went through on Kuzyatru Station, I can well imagine the veil of suspicion and anger through which you see us.” He cocked his head again. “That’s why I’ve come here this evening. I wished to set the record straight.”
“Very thoughtful of you,” I said. This ought to be good. “Go ahead.”
“Firstly, I must apologize for the misguided zeal of my companions,” he said, still using that solemn, used-marshland-salesman voice. “They jumped to the conclusion that you were a deadly enemy, someone to be destroyed at all costs.”
“And I’m not?”
“Not at all,” he said. “As I’ve observed your interactions with the Modhri aboard this train, I’ve come to realize that you are, in fact, merely a pawn.”
“Interesting,” I said. “Not very flattering, though.”
“You would do well to put your Human pride aside for a moment,” he said severely, a hint of the old familiar Shonkla-raa arrogance peeking momentarily through. “We’re speaking about warfare and survival.”
“No, we’re speaking about recruitment,” I corrected. “You are trying to talk me into switching sides, aren’t you?”
“The premise in your question is flawed,” he said flatly. “The Modhri isn’t on your side. You are on his. He’s using you, making you as much a tool as any of his Eyes.”
“And your side will treat me better?”
He drew himself up. “My side will win, Compton,” he said, the earnestness in his voice taking on an edge of darkness. “It’s inevitable. We’ve unlocked the secrets of the Shonkla-raa of old, the ability to tune Filiaelian minds to the telepathic frequencies of all known species.”
“Except for Humans, who haven’t got any telepathic frequencies,” I reminded him. “And your little artificial-insemination program isn’t going to change that.”
He snorted, his nose blaze darkening. “That program is a pointless toy. But what of it? Do you really think your small cluster of Human worlds can hold out against the might of the reborn Shonkla-raa and the weight of the entire galaxy?”
“Well, when you put it that way, I suppose not,” I conceded. “But we must be of some use to you. Otherwise, why the sales pitch?”
“Your people are of no use,” he said with a dismissive sniff. “But you, Frank Compton, are another matter.”
He leaned back in his seat, eyeing me thoughtfully. “There’s a chapter of your Western Alliance history, two hundred and more years ago, called the War Between the States. You’re familiar with it?”
“Of course,” I said. “I’m rather impressed that you are.”
“One must study the peoples one intends to conquer and rule,” he said, waving casually. “Before the conflict began, a general named Robertee-lee was offered the command of the Northern armies. He refused, choosing instead to command the forces of his native South. The war was long and devastating, costly in lives and property, and though Robertee-lee and those under his command fought hard, in the end they were defeated. Am I incorrect?”
“No, that pretty much covers the gist of it,” I said. “Your point?”
“My point is that some historians believe that if Robertee-lee had instead accepted the North’s offer the war would have been over in weeks, sparing many lives and vastly decreasing the subsequent turmoil and bitterness.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding. “So you’re saying I’m the modern Robert E. Lee, and that if I’ll just come over and assist your side with strategy and tactics it’ll be over so much more painlessly?”
“Exactly,” he said. “But more importantly, Earth and the rest of your people will be safe from the coming chaos.”
“At least until you finish beating down everyone else?”
“Not at all,” he said. “I’m offering you and your people an alliance. In exchange for your services, we’ll leave your worlds and your people strictly alone.”
I snorted. “Big offer. Your soldiers of choice are Modhran walkers, and we’ve managed to keep the Confederation pretty much free of them.”
“Which isn’t to say we couldn’t import all we needed,” he pointed out. “Nonetheless, I repeat my offer: if you work for us, the coming war will pass your worlds by. Your people will be free to live their lives as they themselves choose. We would even grant them free run of the galaxy, to roam wherever they wish, with all the rights and privileges we intend to grant our own Filiaelian people.”
“Sounds way too generous,” I said. “What would their task be in your New Order? Stoking the cremation furnaces or something?”
“They would have no duties of any sort,” he assured me. “Only to live in contentment and freedom.”
“And all this because of the value of my service to you?” I shook my head. “I have got to talk to the Spiders about raising my pay grade.”
“Few people understand a warrior’s true value,” the Shonkla-raa said sagely. “Especially not his allies. Only his enemies have such clarity of vision.”