Timothy Zahn - Judgment at Proteus

“We are pleased you approve,” a voice came from behind me.

I turned to see a heavyset male Filly in physician tans emerge through an open doorway of the chalet we’d just passed. His ears were noticeably wider than the average Filly’s, and his shoulders seemed broader, though that might just have been his general thickness.

More importantly, from my current point of view, there was no sign of the oversized throat that I now knew to be a telltale sign of our new up-and-coming Shonkla-raa. “I do indeed,” I told him. “I’m also surprised that you would build an entire Earth-style treatment center on the off-chance that a Human or two might travel to the Assembly for your services.”

“You speak nonsense,” he said with a snort. “The buildings and dome are of course regularly reconfigured for the comfort and convenience of each patient or group of patients.”

“Ah,” I said, nodding. Malleable materials were expensive, but hardly unknown across the galaxy. Apparently, the buildings here were cousins to the familiar self-adjusting Quadrail seats, though on a much grander scale. Typical Proteus showmanship.

The Filly’s eyes shifted to Bayta, then to Terese. “This is Ms. German, I presume?” he asked.

“It is,” Aronobal confirmed.

“Welcome, Ms. German,” the Filly said. “I am Dr. Usantra Wandek. I pledge on behalf of Proteus Station to do all within our power to relieve you of your trouble.”

“Thank you,” Terese said. Almost as startling as the Alpine décor, at least to me, was the sudden subdued courtesy in the girl’s voice. Apparently, she was capable of acting civilized. “I’m ready to begin.”

“As always, there will first be some tests to run,” Wandek said, gesturing to the building directly ahead of us. “Dr. Aronobal will take you.”

Aronobal nodded and gestured in turn to Terese, and the two of them started toward the building. “You must be Mr. Compton,” Wandek continued.

“Yes, I am,” I said, starting to follow Terese.

I stopped abruptly as Wandek reached out a hand and caught my arm. “I wished you to know,” he said, lowering his voice, “how much we appreciate you taking up Asantra Muzzfor’s duty after his untimely death.”

“It was my honor and privilege,” I assured him, my mind once again flicking to Minnario and the still unanswered question of what exactly he knew about that episode. “If you’ll excuse us—”

“ Asantra Muzzfor was one of our colleagues,” Wandek continued, still gripping my arm. “His services will be sorely missed.”

“He was a doctor?” Bayta asked. “He never mentioned that.”

“We have many colleagues who are not doctors,” Wandek said. “Caregivers, lab techs, gene manipulation specialists, support workers—”

“Which of those was Asantra Muzzfor?” Bayta asked.

Wandek’s nose blaze did an odd mottling, a type of hue change I’d never seen in a Filly before. Part of his array of genetic alterations, no doubt. “Why do you ask such questions?” he asked. “I thought you knew Asantra Muzzfor.”

“Not as well as we would have liked,” I said, making a concerted effort to pull my arm from his grip.

I could have saved myself the trouble. His fingers were like a machine vise, and from their rigidity I had the impression that the joints had actually locked in place. More genetic fiddling? “Nice grip you’ve got there, doc,” I said. “You get that from all that micro-surgery?”

“I would appreciate a few minutes of your time,” he said, ignoring both of my question’s possible interpretations. He shifted his weight, pulling me back toward the building he’d first appeared from.

“I may not be allowed in there,” I warned, not bothering to resist his pull. He outweighed me by a good fifteen kilos, he still had his iron grip, and I had no real justification to try anything violent. “As you see, I’m under movement restrictions,” I added. “Doug and Ty may not allow me to go in there.”

I suppose I’d hoped the animals would pick up on the cue. But of course they didn’t. Doug and Ty walked docilely at my sides as Wandek pulled me along, without so much as a snort or growl. I threw one final look behind me, just in time to see Aronobal usher Terese into the other building, and then our own door swung open and Bayta and I went inside.

The building seemed deserted as we walked down a light blue corridor. Wandek led us to a double door and pushed it open.

At least now I knew where the building’s staff had gone. There were ten Fillies seated around the outer, convex edge of a half-hex table, watching silently as we filed in. “These are some of Asantra Muzzfor’s other colleagues,” Wandek said as he led me to the table’s inner edge and planted me in the center of all those silent stares. “While Dr. Aronobal begins Ms. German’s tests, we hoped you could spare a few minutes to tell us how it was our friend’s life was taken from him.”

“Of course,” I said, looking around the table. The group was a nice mixture of job specialties, four of the aliens wearing doctor’s tans, and two each in similar outfits in brown, blue, and green.

But the variation in wardrobes was the least of my concerns. Along with a host of other, minor genetic variations, all ten Fillies had the same enlarged throats that I’d seen on Muzzfor.

I’d found the Shonkla-raa.

They’d also found me.

“First of all, I want to say how deeply I grieve with you at Asantra Muzzfor’s passing,” I said, looking back and forth among the Fillies and memorizing their faces as best I could. “I didn’t know him well, but when the crunch came, he came through. Indeed, he saved my life.”

The leftmost of the aliens wearing physician’s tan stirred in his chair. {Explain,} he ordered.

“Sorry?” I asked, cocking my head slightly toward him. You never know when it could come in handy for people to think you don’t understand their language.

“He asked you to explain,” Wandek translated.

“Ah,” I said. “As you know—well, no, as you probably don’t know,” I amended, “there was a murderer aboard the super-express train from Homshil. He killed four of the passengers before we were able to identify him—”

“This we already know,” Wandek interrupted. “How exactly did he save your life?”

“My apologies.” So either Aronobal or Emikai had already filled them in on that. “As you may also know, the killer took my assistant Bayta hostage and barricaded himself in one of the first-class compartments. I was able to penetrate the area, but realized I couldn’t take him alone. A Filiaelian passenger named Osantra Qiddicoj offered to assist me, and persuaded two others, a Tra’ho oathling and a Juri Krel , to join us. When Asantra Muzzfor learned of our plans he also volunteered for the mission. We penetrated the killer’s compartment, and together succeeded in defeating him.”

“How did Asantra Muzzfor die?” Wandek asked. “We wish details.”

“I wish I could give them to you,” I said ruefully. “Unfortunately, I can’t. I was the first into the compartment, and the killer managed to deliver a blow that knocked me unconscious. When I came to, Osantra Qiddicoj, the Tra’ho, the Juri, and the murderer himself were all dead. Asantra Muzzfor was still alive, though just barely, but was too far gone for either of the doctors to help him.”

{Yet you did not call for them?} one of the green-clad Fillies asked.

“As I said, it was too late,” I said after Wandek finished his translation. “I sent word via the Spiders, and would have gone myself, but Asantra Muzzfor asked me to stay with him to the end. He told me that he had a contract to deliver Ms. German to Proteus Station, and asked me to fulfill that contract on his behalf.”