Timothy Zahn: Judgment at Proteus

[May I?] Minnario asked, holding out a thin hand.

“Be my guest,” I said. I handed it over and then turned back to Hchchu. “I presume that I’ll now be permitted to fulfill my obligations on Ms. German’s behalf?”

[I trust you don’t intend to lock him away,] Minnario spoke up, his eyes still plowing through the Filiaelian legalese. [You’ve offered no weight of evidence sufficient for that.]

“Nor does it permit release on his own parole,” Hchchu said, a bit huffily. “But there is a third option.” He turned toward the doorway through which the lockbox had disappeared. “Bring them,” he called.

There was a short pause. Then, one of the Jumpsuits reappeared, leading two of the nastiest-looking animals I’d ever seen.

They were dogs for the most part, or at least that was how my Human eyes and cultural viewpoint reflexively tried to categorize them. They were about the size of adult Dobermans, and there was certainly a lot of canine in their torsos, legs, and snouts.

But with that the resemblance to Fido dozing on the hearth ended. Their ears looked like small seagull wings, their spines bristled with low diamond-shaped spikes, and their backs and the tops of their heads were covered with an organic armor somewhere between armadillo scales and the skin on a pineapple. Their lower torsos and legs were covered with a feathery fur, with an overall color scheme that reminded me of a tabby cat seen through a rose-colored filter. Their eyes, encircled by faint raccoon masks, were deep-set, greenish-white, and decidedly unfriendly. If anyone was planning a remake of the dit-rec mystery The Hound of the Baskervilles , I had the perfect casting for the title role. “And what on God’s green Earth are these ?” I asked.

“They are called msikai-dorosli ,” Hchchu said. “They are used as guard animals in many parts of the Filiaelian Assembly.”

“I can believe that,” I said. The animal closest to me opened its mouth a little, and I spotted a double row of sharp-looking teeth inside a cavernous opening. “So what’s the deal?”

“They will accompany you everywhere you go while aboard this station,” Hchchu said. It was a little hard to tell, but I was pretty sure there was some malicious amusement in his voice. “They will keep you out of places where you should not go and prevent you from harming anyone.”

“What will keep them from harming us ?” I countered.

Hchchu snorted. “Do you take us for barbarians? They are not merely mindless beasts who rip and tear indiscriminately whenever they are hungry. They have sufficient intelligence to comprehend their duty and understand their orders. Observe.” He beckoned the animals forward.

Obediently, they trotted over to him. {Identify,} he said in Fili as he pointed to Bayta and me.

Both animals turned their heads and eyed us balefully. {Identify,} Hchchu repeated, gesturing again.

Reluctantly, I thought, the animals walked over to us. “Offer your hands,” Hchchu ordered.

Feeling like a sacrificial goat, I gingerly extended my left hand. Bayta did likewise, and the two animals spent a few seconds sniffing each of us in turn. One of them then turned back to Hchchu and emitted a startlingly dog-like woof. {Limit, and guard against trouble,} Hchchu said.

The lead dog gave another woof and stepped to my right, while his companion settled in on my left. “They are now on duty,” Hchchu said.

“I’m so pleased,” I said, trying not to sound too sarcastic as I looked down at the pineapple top of my new watchdogs’ heads. “Do they have names?”

“Could you pronounce them even if they did?” Hchchu countered.

“Probably not,” I said. Most Fillies I’d met had made a point of modifying their own names slightly to make them more pronounceable to the non-Fillies they dealt with. Here in the middle of the Assembly, Hchchu himself apparently felt no need to be so accommodating. “How good are they at learning new ones?”

“They will understand.” Hchchu snapped his fingers twice. {The Human will give you new names.} “Proceed,” he said in English.

The first watchdog looked up at me, I swear with the same expectant look as a two-year-old Human who’s been promised a magic trick. I looked back, trying to think up something appropriate. The watchdogs obviously couldn’t talk, so something from the dit-rec comedy silent era? Buster and Charlie? Charlie and Harold?

I focused again on the watchdog’s face. Those raccoon masks around their eyes … “Doug,” I said, pointing to him. I shifted my finger to the other watchdog. “Ty.”

Doug snuffed once, then lowered his head again. “What about their care and feeding?” Bayta asked.

“Their food and beds will be delivered to your quarters,” Hchchu said. He looked at Minnario. “When you have signed the contract, you may go.”

I looked at Minnario. [It seems in order,] he said as he handed me the paper. [You may sign.]

“Thanks.” I took the contract and held out my hand to Hchchu. “My pen left with my reader case.”

His blaze darkened, but without a word he pulled his contract pen from its tailored pocket in his tunic and slid it across the table to me. I signed on the first line and handed both the paper and the pen back to him. He signed the second line and slid the paper into another slot on the desk. “You may go,” he said, putting the pen away.

“We first need to know where Ms. German was taken,” I reminded him.

Hchchu tapped a few keys on the desk’s computer and peered at the display. {Escort them to Sector 25-F,} he said in Fili. “The msikai-dorosli will take you to the proper sector desk,” he added in English.

I looked down at Doug’s head. “A map would also be handy,” I suggested.

“They will take you,” Hchchu said. “Good day, Mr. Compton.”

Apparently, we were dismissed. “Right,” I muttered. “Heel, Doug. Or whatever.”

{Go,} Hchchu added.

The two watchdogs turned and trotted toward the door. “You coming?” I asked Minnario.

[I need to wait until the station’s legal representative arrives,] he said. [After I’ve learned the full weight of the case, I’ll find you.] He eyed me closely. [At that point, we can discuss the matter further.]

“I’ll look forward to it,” I said. The watchdogs had reached the door and were standing there expectantly, eyeing me over their shoulders. “My masters call,” I murmured, closing our carrybags and setting them on the floor beside us. “Let’s go.”

* * *

According to the material I’d read aboard the Quadrail, Proteus was divided into a number of sectors of different sizes and shapes, each acting like a combination hospital floor and New York City neighborhood. Most of the medical sectors were arranged with the testing and treatment facilities grouped in the center, surrounded by patient and staff quarters, which were in turn surrounded by shops, restaurants, and entertainment facilities. The non-medical sectors, the ones set up for meetings and conventions, had similar layouts, except that the rooms were considerably fancier and the restaurants and entertainment facilities correspondingly pricier.

Living areas for the workers were scattered throughout the disk, most of them consisting of a dozen corridors’ worth of apartments grouped around a community-center dome that cut through several decks to give the locals a taste of open space. The brochures were a little vague about how those domes were arranged, and what was in each one, but hinted that the décor was largely up to the inhabitants of the neighborhood.

All of the various living and working sections were in the hundred and fifty decks that ran through the central part of the station’s disk, with the domed areas above and below the disk dedicated to storage, recycling, power generation, maintenance, and the vectored force thrusters that kept the station from losing position and starting a long, leisurely fall toward the sun a billion kilometers away.