“Yes, there were,” I said, finding my voice at last. Down at the far end of the station, I could see the laser light show of the approaching Quadrail. “That’s what did the most serious damage. Once the skin was broken and the parichloric and fluoro-di-monistak got in—well, you understand.”
“Yes, of course.” McMicking hissed under his breath. “Parichloric. What a terrible, terrible thing.”
The Quadrail roared down the track and came to a halt in front of us. McMicking and I kept up the pseudomedical jargon until the flow of departing passengers finally ended. Then, as the crowd continued to keep a respectful distance, we rolled the stretcher through the door and into the first-class compartment car. Two conductors were waiting at our door, and with their help we got the stretcher inside.
I stood over Bayta’s swathed form, making soothing noises for the benefit of any passengers passing through the corridor until the Spiders tapped their way out, closing the door behind them. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” I said, opaquing the window and turning to face McMicking. “But what the hell are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “Protecting Mr. Hardin’s investment, of course.”
I glanced down, wondering how much Bayta could hear in there. “I thought he fired me,” I said, lowering my voice.
“He decided to give you one more chance,” McMicking said, eyeing me curiously as he pulled my watch, reader, and credit tag from his pocket and dropped them onto the bed. “So you are in trouble with the Halkan Peerage.”
“With the Peerage and every other upper-class business and political leader in the station,” I told him. Unfastening the straps that held Bayta to the stretcher, I started to undo the bandages around her head. “And I thought I told you to get Mr. Hardin out of here.”
“He’s on his way,” McMicking assured me, watching in fascination as Bayta began to emerge from her cocoon. “He went across to the transfer station with the rest of our people to check on some of his investments in the system. He’ll stay another day or two, then head home.” He lifted his eyebrows. “I trust whatever trouble you’ve stirred up will be over by then?”
“Don’t worry, the trouble will be following me,” I said. “Thanks for the assist, but you’d better get going.”
“I appreciate the warning,” he said. “Hello, there,” he added as I finished pulling the bandages clear of Bayta’s face.
Bayta’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. “It’s all right,” I told her quickly “He helped us get past the walkers out there.”
“Name’s McMicking,” McMicking introduced himself calmly. “A colleague of Mr. Compton’s.”
Bayta’s eyes shifted to me. “A colleague?” she asked, her tone suddenly ominous.
“More like second colleague, twice removed,” I said. “He works for Larry Hardin, one of Earth’s men of wealth.” I gave McMicking a warning look. “I’ve had some dealings with Hardin in the past.”
McMicking, as I’d expected, had no trouble picking up on the cue. “That’s right,” he confirmed easily. “I happened to notice your quick departure from your last train, and figured you were in trouble.”
“How did you know we’d come back in this way?” Bayta asked, her expression still tight.
“I didn’t, exactly,” McMicking said with a shrug. “But I spent ten years as a bounty hunter before I started working for Mr. Hardin. I know a little about how fugitives think.” He favored me with a thin smile. “Especially clever ones like Mr. Compton. How about telling me what’s going on?”
I could feel Bayta tense up as I continued unfastening her bandages. Fortunately, I’d already worked up a story, one that McMicking might actually believe. “It’s basically a blackmail and extortion scheme,” I said. “One that’s sucked in most of the top people across the galaxy.”
“Our people haven’t heard anything about this,” he said, eyeing me closely.
“It’s been going on very quietly,” I explained. “And so far Humans and the Confederation seem to have been ignored. But that’s about to change; and when they do come for us, I guarantee Mr. Hardin will be one of the first on their list.”
McMicking’s eyes narrowed. I had his full attention now. “Let them come,” he said, a soft menace in his voice. “We’ll be ready.”
“You may not even know it’s happened,” I warned as a small additional spark of inspiration struck. Applegate had been content with half the Modhran story. Maybe McMicking would be, too. “They make their conquests through a highly addictive chemical found in Modhran coral.”
He frowned. “Coral?”
“Goes in through small scratches in the skin,” I said. “One touch, and they’ve got you.”
He snorted. “You need to touch it? Coral? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Their agents are very persuasive.”
“Not that persuasive,” he countered with a sniff. “I can’t imagine anyone speaking well of grabbing a chunk of coral.”
I stared at him, a sudden tingle at the back of my neck. I can’t imagine anyone speaking well of grabbing a chunk of coral …
And with that, the rest of the pieces fell into place.
That was it. God above, that was it.
“So what are they after you for?” McMicking continued. “You get on someone’s list of the rich and famous when I wasn’t looking?”
“Hardly,” I said mechanically, dragging my mind back to the conversation at hand. “Some of us made a mess of their main base a couple of days ago. They’re not happy about that.”
There was a tap at the door. “You expecting anyone?” McMicking asked, his voice suddenly taut as he stepped to the door.
“No,” I told him, lowering my voice.
“It’s all right,” Bayta said. “It’s just our luggage.”
McMicking threw her an odd look. “Your luggage has its own secret knock?”
“Just open the door,” I growled.
He transferred the odd look to me, then turned and opened the door. A conductor stood there, our carrybags dangling from three of its legs. Wordlessly, McMicking took them, dropped them onto the bed, then closed and relocked the door. “So,” he said conversationally as he stepped over to the curve couch and sat down. “We have just this one compartment?”
“No, we have two compartments,” I said “You, on the other hand are getting off this—”
I broke off as the thud of releasing brakes sounded from beneath us. “Afraid not,” McMicking said calmly.
“McMicking, you son of a—” I choked off the curse and grabbed for his arm. I’d throw him off bodily if I had to.
But he evaded my grab with ease. Besides, it was way too late. Even as I made a second and equally futile grab, the train started moving. “McMicking!” I snarled again, dropping my hands uselessly to my sides.
“Relax,” he said. “You didn’t think I came just to help you aboard and then let you ride off down the rabbit hole, did you? A man like Mr. Hardin didn’t get where he is by not protecting his investments.”
“Investments?” Bayta asked.
I sighed. “I’ll tell you later.”
“In the meantime,” McMicking continued, lacing his fingers comfortably behind his head, “where exactly do I sleep?”
TWENTY:
It was a four-day trip from Jurskala to Terra, and like the journey from Sistarrko to Jurskala, this one quickly settled into a fairly dull routine.
Dull, but with a dark edge of tension. We couldn’t let Bayta out in public, for starters, and even in disguise I didn’t dare poke my own nose out for anything beyond a thrice-daily trip to the dining car to get our meals. The fact that I was supposedly the physician to a badly injured Juri made it worse, since one of those meals each time had to be Jurian sickbed fare. The necessary blandness of the diet got old after about the middle of the second day.