Timothy Zahn - The Domino Pattern

Kennrick was sitting where he could watch the vestibule door, and as Bayta and I entered the car he spoke a few last words to the Filly and stood up. The alien himself looked at me and nodded a silent acknowledgment as Kennrick maneuvered his way through the little clusters of seats the rest of the passengers had constructed. “That was fast.” he commented as he reached us. His eyes flicked to Bayta, but he didn’t comment on the fact that I’d brought a guest along.

“Bayta and I can do this alone if you weren’t finished with your conversation,” I offered.

“No, that’s all right,” he said. “ Usantra Givvrac wants me present when you question Master Tririn. He wants to get to the bottom of this even more than you do.”

“I’m sure he does,” I said, returning Givvrac’s acknowledging nod with one of my own. “After you.”

The three of us headed aft, walking through the rest of the first- and second-class cars and on into third. As we passed the second/third dispensary I glanced inside, but there was no one there except the server Spider on duty. There were no dead bodies, either. Bofiv having apparently been taken back to the baggage car while Bayta and I slept.

We found Tririn hunched over in his seat, his eyes staring fixedly at the seat back in front of him as he ignored both the exotic alien travelscape playing on the display window to his left and Master Bofiv’s empty seat to his right. In the aisle seat of his row was the Nemut Kennrick had mentioned, his rainbow-slashed eyes focused on a reader, his truncated-cone-shaped mouth making little motions like a pre-K child trying to sound out the words.

Two rows ahead of them, Terese German was sitting with her eyes closed, a set of headphones locked snugly around her ears, a silent but clear warning to all and sundry that she wanted to be left alone. Two seats to her right, next to the train’s outer side, a young Juri with the unpolished scales of a commoner was gazing intently at the dit rec drama playing on the display window to his right.

We passed their row and came to a halt beside the Nemut. “Master Tririn?” Kennrick called softly. “Master Tririn?”

The Shorshian didn’t answer, or even turn to face us. “I don’t think he wants to talk.” Kennrick concluded. “Maybe we should try again later.”

“Or maybe we should try a little harder right now,” I said, looking at the Nemut in the aisle seat. “Excuse me?”

“Yes?” the other asked, his deep voice sounding a little slurred. Small wonder; now that I was standing over him I could see that he had an open bag full of small, colorful snack cubes resting in his lap. Apparently, the mouth movements I’d noticed earlier had had nothing to do with the sounding out of words.

“I’d like to get past, if I may,” I told him, gesturing toward the empty seat between him and Tririn. I actually didn’t need him to move—even third-class Quadrail seats allowed the average passenger plenty of legroom—but it was always polite to ask.

“Certainly,” the Nemut said. Getting a grip on his goodie bag, he drew in his knees.

“Thank you.” I sidled past him and sat down beside Tririn. “Good day, Master Tririn,” I said. “Frank Compton. You may remember me from last night.”

[I remember you, Mr. Compton,] Tririn said, the normal harshness of the Shishish tempered by the listlessness in his voice. [And the day is not good. No days from now on will be good.]

“I understand.” I said, glancing back at Kennrick. He was still standing in the aisle, glowering at my brazenness at barging in on Tririn’s solitude this way. Bayta, for her part, was standing a little apart from him. up near Terese’s row, where she wouldn’t crowd us but would still be close enough to listen in on the conversation. “Were Master Colix and Master Bofiv close friends of yours?” I asked, turning back to Tririn.

[They were business associates.] he said.

“I understand.” I said again, wondering briefly if he was correcting me or agreeing with me. “Tell me, did all three of you eat together yesterday?”

[We ate sundown together,] he said. [Sunrise and midday were eaten individually.]

According to my encyclopedia, that was indeed the standard practice for non-family Shorshians traveling together. Unfortunately, it didn’t tell me whether or not the three had been friends or something more distant. “Do you remember what you all ate at sundown?” I asked.

[The common dish was po krem ,] he said. [It’s a shred, a mixture of meat and fruits.]

“Yes, I’ve heard of it,” I said. “What reaches did all of you use?”

For the first time since I’d sat down he turned his face toward me. [My apologies, Mr. Compton.] he said, eyeing me curiously. [I took you to be as other Humans, ignorant of Shorshic custom and honor nodes. For that unspoken slight, I ask your forgiveness.]

“Freely and openly granted,” I assured him, giving silent thanks that I’d had the sense to sacrifice an hour of sleep last night in favor of a crash course in Shorshic social customs and terminology.

[Thank you,] he said. [My reach was galla bread. Master Colix and Master Bofiv used baked prinn scoops.]

So the two dead Shorshians had eaten from the common bowl with the same type of edible scoops, while the Shorshian alive and breathing had used something else. I made a mental note to check with the server Spiders to see if those choices were standard for the three of them, or whether they’d been unique to the fatal evening. “And your individuals?”

[All different,] he said. [ Birrsh for Master Colix, valarrki for Master Bofiv. sorvidae for me.] His eyes flicked briefly past my shoulder. [Yet the Spiders said the death was not in the food. Do you believe otherwise?]

“I don’t believe there was any death in the food when it was served to you,” I told him. “But possibly something happened after that. Do you remember anyone approaching your table while you ate? Perhaps to ask a question, or to engage one of you in conversation?”

Tririn cocked his head in thought. I watched him closely, wondering if he was searching his memory or just trying to think up a good lie. [I don’t believe so,] he said at last. [There were servers, of course, but no one else approached.]

“Did you happen to notice who was sitting at the nearby tables?” I asked.

Tririn’s brow wrinkled. [We sat at a corner table,] he said. [There was only one table near us. Unfortunately, my back was to the occupants.]

I grimaced. “I see,” I said. “Well, then—”

“I saw them.” the Nemut on my other side volunteered.

I turned to him in surprise. “ You saw them?”

“They were Humans,” he told me. “One female, one male.”

One female …“Was it by any chance that female up there?” I asked, pointing two rows ahead toward Terese.

Or rather, toward Terese’s empty seat. Terese herself had vanished.

So had Bayta.

“Kennrick?” I demanded, standing up for a better look. Neither of the women was anywhere to be seen.

“Take it easy—they’re in the restroom,” Kennrick said, nodding toward the front of the car. “The German girl headed off—kind of fast, actually—and your friend followed.”

“Ah.” I said, frowning as I sat back down. That was at least twice now that Terese had suddenly been taken ill. “Let me rephrase the question.” I said to the Nemut. “Was the woman you saw the same one who usually sits there?”

“I believe so,” he said. “Though Humans are difficult to distinguish between.”

“I understand,” I said. “Can you remember anything about the male Human?”

The Nemut’s angled shoulder muscles quivered briefly in one of their equivalents of a shrug. “His hair was white,” he said. “That is all I remember.”