Timothy Zahn - Judgment at Proteus

Emikai gave a whinnying sigh. “Unfortunately, the tools at our disposal are severely limited,” he said. “None of the monitors shows his location, we have no recordings of his movements, and so far no one interviewed remembers seeing him after his departure from the security office over two hours ago.”

“What about DNA sniffers?” I suggested. “Surely you still have the records from when he entered Proteus Station.”

“That has already been tried,” one of the Jumpsuits said in badly accented English. “There is insufficient remaining nucleic in the security station.”

“The air in Kuzyatru Station is cleaned as it is recirculated,” Emikai explained. “That limits the usefulness of nucleic sniffers.”

Another nice bonus for the Shonkla-raa. “Then we need to focus the search in the most likely places for him to have gone,” I said. “In order, I would guess those to be places where he could get food or rest, look up the details of the Slisst Protocols, or get medical attention.”

“What would he wish with the Protocols?” Wandek asked.

“He needs to know how the Proteus legal structure will affect our defense,” I said.

“Your analysis makes sense,” Emikai said, gesturing to the Jumpsuit at the monitor bank. {Institute a search of Mr. Compton’s suggested target areas.}

{I obey.} The Jumpsuit swiveled back to his board and began speaking rapid Fili into a microphone.

“Have you any other thoughts?” Emikai asked.

I hesitated. This one, I knew, was not going to go over well. “We also need to consider motive,” I said. “Specifically, who would benefit from Minnario’s disappearance.”

To my mild surprise, Emikai was already ahead of me. “You thus name Chinzro Hchchu,” he said calmly.

I heard the faint whisper of a dozen necks against jumpsuit collars as every nearby Filly turned toward us. “According to the Slisst Protocols, he’s the one who’ll be prosecuting me,” I pointed out for their benefit. “There are any number of reasons why he might want to delay the proceedings.”

“What about your reasons?” Wandek put in.

“Such as?” I asked.

“I am told you were reluctant to attend this evening’s preliminary hearing,” Wandek said. “That hearing has now been unavoidably postponed.”

“Pretty weak motive, if you ask me,” I said. “Especially since the reason for my reluctance was that my assistant Bayta wouldn’t be permitted to attend with me.” I gestured toward Emikai. “And given that I’ve been under direct observation since I first learned about the hearing, it would have been well-nigh impossible for me to have done anything to him.”

“Perhaps Attorney Minnario informed you ahead of the official notification,” Wandek suggested darkly. “Perhaps you called for a meeting to discuss the matter, and you”—he threw a look at Bayta—“ and your assistant then disposed of him.”

“No,” Emikai said flatly.

Wandek’s blaze went all mottled again. “ No ?” he echoed. “You dare—?”

“They have not been alone aboard Kuzyatru Station.” Emikai pointed at Doug and Ty. “Ever.”

Wandek looked at the watchdogs, his expression and posture reminiscent of a schooner that’s just had all the wind knocked out of its sails. “Oh,” he said in a suddenly subdued voice. “No, of course not.”

“The msikai-dorosli would not permit them to harm another being,” Emikai went on, in case Wandek hadn’t fully grasped the point. “ Chinzro Hchchu would have ordered them—”

{Yes, yes, I understand,} Wandek snapped. {Don’t belabor the point.}

{My apologies, Usantra Wandek,} Emikai said.

Apparently, the words weren’t enough. Wandek’s hand twitched imperiously, and Emikai bowed his head toward the other. {My apologies,} he repeated.

“If you two can stop babbling a minute, can we get on with this?” I put in. Watching Emikai grovel in front of Wandek was nearly as irritating as Wandek making him do it. “My attorney’s missing. I’d kind of like someone to find him.”

They were still at it an hour later when my growling stomach finally forced me to go with Bayta in search of food. Fortunately, the security nexus included a station with a selection of quick foods available for the duty personnel. I decided Bayta and I qualified, and we had a quick meal there before returning to the monitor room.

Three hours later, when I finally gave up, they still hadn’t found Minnario.

* * *

The door to Bayta’s room was still keyed to both our DNA signatures. I opened the door, turned on the lights, and gave the room a quick scan as we walked in. Bayta’s luggage had been delivered and was set neatly at the foot of the bed, but aside from that everything was just the way we’d left it. “What do you think happened to him?” Bayta asked quietly as I closed the door and locked it.

“Nothing good,” I said, crossing to the half-bath and peeking inside. It, too, appeared untouched. “I just wish I knew how they could have gotten to him without someone seeing it and coming forward.”

“Maybe whoever saw his abduction or disappearance didn’t realize the significance at the time,” she suggested as she walked over to the bed and stood beside it.

“Maybe,” I said. There was considerably more I wanted to say, facts and speculation both, and from the look on Bayta’s face I could tell she was equally eager to have that same discussion. But this was the room that had been prepared for us, in all senses of that word, and neither of us was interested in having that conversation where little pitchers with big ears would undoubtedly be listening in. “We can hope so, anyway. Well. Good night, I guess.”

“Good night, Frank,” Bayta said.

For a long moment we just gazed across the room at each other. We’d said these same good-nights a thousand times before, and for most of those nights it had been a routine and largely meaningless ritual.

But not tonight. Tonight a Nemut was missing from Proteus Station, with every evidence of foul play. Tonight we were a long ways away from the Tube, with its multitude of Spiders and its weapon-free environment.

And tonight we weren’t going to be sharing a double Quadrail compartment with nothing but a collapsible divider separating us. We were going to be half a kilometer apart, with neither of us able to quickly come to the other’s aid if any of that foul play headed in our direction.

I wanted to say the hell with this, to just lock the door and settle down here for the night where I could protect Bayta while she in turn watched my back. But I didn’t dare. We were already too emotionally close for comfort, and the Modhri was just waiting for his chance to ensnare us.

And if he got me, I would rather die than be the conduit through which he also got Bayta.

So I nodded a last farewell and stepped out into the hallway, Doug padding out beside me. I waited there until I heard the snick of the inner lock, then headed through the quiet corridors toward my own distant quarters.

Most of the space stations I’d visited over my career with Westali had run on a more or less round-the-clock schedule, with a noticeable drop in traffic and activity after midnight but nothing even approaching a complete halt. Proteus Station was different. The corridors were largely deserted as I walked along them, with only the jumpsuited patrollers still out and about. The lights were noticeably dimmer than they’d been when Bayta and I had left the security nexus, but they’d faded gradually enough that I hadn’t really noticed until Doug and I were on the glideway and I realized that I couldn’t make out the same details at the far end that I had when traveling this route earlier that afternoon. I assumed the station’s schedule was set to mimic that of the Fillies’ homeworld, but that was only a guess and with my reader locked up a quarter of the station away there was no way to look that up until I got back to my room and fired up the computer there.