Timothy Zahn - Judgment at Proteus

{Humans and Bellidos both,} Riijkhan said. {And bring all the Psika sculptures that have been found, as well. We may require them for power.}

{I obey.} The Shonkla-raa stepped back and pulled out his comm.

Riijkhan turned back to me. “Help ourselves, you say?” he said. “No, Compton, I’m not so selfish. Your people will have the honor of walking before us down the path that leads to our final victory.”

I felt my stomach tighten. “Before they die?”

“Yes,” he said softly. “Before they die.”

I’d suspected Riijkhan’s grandiose offer hadn’t been driven by magnanimity, or even by some strange nod toward future history. But it wasn’t until the line of Humans and Bellidos began to file through the hatchway under Shonkla-raa supervision that I realized just how low Riijkhan’s motivations really were.

No matter how good the ship looked, it was very, very old. Old electronics and power sources had a tendency to decay over time, and depending on how much power was running through a given system such decay could be lethal.

So the slaves would go first. They would be the ones to turn on lights and power systems, and along the way to also trigger any faults or short-circuits or pressurized chemical tank failures. They would take the risks and die so their masters could live.

Riijkhan went in on the third wave, taking Bayta, McMicking, Morse, and me with him. We didn’t go far, ending up in what looked like a control/monitor room about twenty meters in from the hatchway. The leading edge of Humans and Shonkla-raa had already come by, and had used one of the Vipers to power up the banks of monitors arranged across two of the walls. Most of the screens showed large rooms, though their details could only be vaguely made out in the dim lighting that was still the norm across most of the ship. A couple of the screens also showed wide corridors, and one of them showed the hatchway through which Humans, Bellidos, and Fillies were still streaming. Four of the Shonkla-raa had seated themselves in the chairs at the control board and were gazing intently at the rows of controls or cautiously manipulating dials and keys.

“Probably a security office,” McMicking said, nodding toward the board. “You see those holsters on each of the chairs? Just about the right size for extra sidearms.”

“Looks like a rifle rack over there, too,” I agreed, nodding toward an empty rack behind the desks.

“Shouldn’t a security office also have a set of floor plans?” Bayta asked. “I don’t see anything like that.”

“It’s probably all computerized,” I said. “Or else it’s supposed to be displayed over there,” I added, pointing to the blank side wall.

The words were barely out of my mouth when one of the Shonkla-raa did something to his controls, and the deck plans popped up right where I was pointing. I got a glimpse of a maze of corridors and rooms before the view shifted to another deck with an entirely different maze. That one lasted a couple of seconds and was replaced by another, then by another, and another. Most of the decks, I noted, had one or two bright red spots in various places, usually in one of the larger rooms. About the time the tenth deck came along, I tentatively concluded the dots were the locations of the monitor cameras.

Finally, the series ended. {Excellent,} Riijkhan said. While I’d been busy gawking at the deck plans, I saw now, he’d been recording the whole sequence on his reader. {The monitor locations will indicate the most important rooms. We’ll begin with those.}

{There are sixty of them,} one of the Shonkla-raa at the board reported. {Approximately one for each six of us. How do you wish to proceed?}

{You four will remain here,} Riijkhan ordered. {Divide the rest into sixty search teams, one for each location.}

{And the slaves?}

{Distribute them among the teams,} Riijkhan said. {Instruct each team to make certain one or more of their slaves travels at the front. The slaves will also take the lead in all activation procedures, especially those involving the Psika sculptures.}

{I obey.} The Shonkla-raa pulled out a comm and began speaking into it.

Riijkhan turned back to me. “It won’t be long now,” he said. “Are you hungry? I could send for food if you’d like.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” I said.

“I’d like something,” Bayta said suddenly. “And something to drink, too.”

“Of course,” Riijkhan said. Now that he was about to get everything his evil little heart desired, he was all courtesy and goodwill. He pulled out his comm and gave the order.

I looked at Bayta. She couldn’t really be wanting to eat, not under these circumstances. She held my eyes for a moment, and then nodded her head microscopically across the room toward Morse. Frowning, I looked casually over at him.

He was standing as rigid and emotionless as ever … but as I ran my eyes up and down him I saw that his right forefinger was moving. Not much, barely a quiver, probably the only freedom of movement he’d been able to find within the Shonkla-raa orders.

But it wasn’t random or nervous movement. The finger was twitching rhythmically, deliberately, tapping out code. Tapping out a single word, repeated over and over.

Stall .

“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “If you’re ordering out for Bayta anyway, I suppose I’ll have something, too. McMicking? Morse?”

“Morse has already eaten,” Riijkhan said. “And McMicking may not wish to weigh himself down.”

“I agree,” McMicking agreed evenly.

I felt my eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I may yet need you, Compton,” Riijkhan said. “You’ve proved your value today, and there may be other small matters on which I’ll wish your advice. Bayta, as we both know, I’ll need to control you. Morse’s training also makes him of unusual value as one of my soldiers.”

His eyes glittered as he looked at McMicking. “McMicking, though, I don’t need.”

A shiver ran up my back. I’d hoped Riijkhan had forgotten about his casual offer of single combat with McMicking. “So make him one of your soldiers, too,” I said, a small part of my brain noting the incredible irony of me even suggesting such a thing. “You must still have some Modhran coral around.”

“ Isantra Yleli was a loyal member of my force,” Riijkhan said. “So were the others of his group. McMicking killed them.”

“McMicking had nothing to do with Yleli’s death,” I insisted.

“No matter,” Riijkhan said. “He’s killed other Shonkla-raa. I’m curious to see his fighting technique.”

“It’s mostly just subterfuge and tricks,” McMicking said. “I’ll probably be a disappointment to you.”

“Do you refuse, then?”

“Not at all,” McMicking assured him. “Whenever you feel ready.”

For a moment they gazed at each other, Riijkhan looking like a tightly coiled spring, McMicking looking preternaturally calm. The room had gone very quiet, I noticed, not just because everyone had stopped talking but also because the sounds of men and Bellidos and Shonkla-raa in the corridor outside had faded away. A movement caught my eye, and I looked up at one of the hallway monitors to see a cluster of Fillies and their slaves walking briskly past on their way to their target room.

I looked at Morse. Almost , his twitching finger spelled out. Almost . “There is one problem with this,” I spoke up. “If you kill McMicking now, Osantra Riijkhan—or if he kills you, for that matter—one of you will never get to hear why I wasn’t surprised that you knew about these ships. Because I did know you were going to be told about them. In fact, I was counting on it.”