Timothy Zahn - The Domino Pattern

I looked back at Terese. She was still peering around the side of her seat, her curiosity starting to drift over into uncertainty. “What’s the matter?” she stage-whispered.

“Do me a favor,” I told her. “Go find a conductor and tell him that I need him and another Spider back here right away. And have them get Dr. Witherspoon out of the second/third dispensary and bring him along.”

Terese got out of her seat, her eyes on Bofiv’s still form. “Is he sick?” she asked.

“No,” I told her. “He’s dead.”

“Without tests I can’t be certain,” Dr. Witherspoon said as he straightened up. “But in my opinion, he died from the same poison that killed Master Colix.”

I looked down at the dispensary’s treatment table, where the late Master Bofiv now lay side by side with the late Master Colix. It was a cozy fit. “Great,” I said. “We’ve got a pattern going.”

“God help us all,” Kennrick muttered. “What are we talking about, Doc, some kind of plague?” He looked pointedly over at the server Spider again standing unobtrusive vigil on the other side of the dispensary. “Something new the Spiders’ fancy sensor net let slip through?”

“If it is, it would have to be something both new and very slippery,” Witherspoon said. “I’ve seen lists of what those sensors catch. Nothing harmful gets through, I assure you.”

“Then it has to be something they ate,” Kennrick concluded. “If it’s not airborne, that’s all that’s left.”

I looked at Tririn. who was standing against the wall beside the Filly doctor. His skin wasn’t mottled like the late Master Bofiv’s, but it definitely looked paler than it had earlier.

Small wonder. Two of his companions had now bitten the dust, companions who had probably been eating the same food and had definitely been breathing the same air he had over the past two weeks. In his place, I’d have been pretty nervous, too.

“There was nothing dangerous in the food,” the server said in his flat Spider voice.

Every head in the room turned at that one. Servers were usually quiet, unassuming little Spiders, with a normal conversational range that was limited to asking a dining car patron what he wanted for lunch or telling a barfly that, sadly, the train was completely out of Jack Daniel’s. To have one of them volunteer information, especially information like this, was unheard of.

Kennrick recovered his voice first. “So you say,” he countered. “I’d want some actual proof of that.”

“What about something one of the group brought aboard?” I asked. “Some foodstuff that maybe wasn’t packaged properly and went bad?”

“I suppose that’s possible,” Witherspoon said. “Bacteria-generated toxins can certainly be nasty enough. But it’s hard to imagine Master Colix or Master Bofiv eating something that was obviously tainted.”

“Which makes it all the more urgent that we get an analysis of the victims’ blood and tissue,” I said. “Until we know which poison was responsible, there’s no way to backtrack it and figure out where it came from.”

“And how do you intend to do that?” Kennrick demanded. “ Di -Master Strinni has already said no autopsies.”

“No, di -Master Strinni said no autopsy on Master Colix,” I corrected. “He hasn’t said anything about Master Bofiv.”

“And why would he—?” Kennrick broke off. “You’re right,” he said, sudden interest in his voice. “Master Bofiv wasn’t on the same Path di -Master Strinni is.”

“Which means he might be willing to let us work on Master Bofiv,” I said.

“It’s worth a try,” Kennrick agreed. “Go ahead. We’ll wait here.”

“You’re the one who knows him,” I reminded him.

“You’re the one who knows how to wake him up,” he countered .

“I’ve already had to do this twice,” I said.

“Once,” Kennrick corrected. “You didn’t actually wake up Master Bofiv.”

“What is the matter with you two?” Witherspoon snapped “There are people lying dead here.”

“And I don’t want to be the one to break that news to a business associate,” Kennrick said coolly. “It was Compton’s idea. He can do it.”

Witherspoon rumbled something under his breath. “Oh, for—never mind. I’ll do it.”

He stripped off his examination gloves, tossing them onto the dispensary counter. With a final glare at me, he strode toward the doorway.

He’d made it halfway there when the obvious problem belatedly caught up with him. “Only I can’t, can I?” he growled with frustration and embarrassment. “ Di -Master Strinni is in first class.”

“I think that in this case the conductors will be willing to pass you through,” I said.

“You will be permitted,” the server confirmed. “A conductor will meet you in the rearmost first-class car and accompany you to di -Master Strinni’s seat.”

“Thank you.” Witherspoon said. He got two more steps, then once again hesitated. “Perhaps, Master Tririn, you would accompany me?” he asked, turning to the remaining Shorshian.

Tririn looked at Kennrick, then back at Witherspoon. [Very well,] he said. He murmured something to Aronobal that I couldn’t catch; then he and Witherspoon left the room and headed forward.

That left Kennrick, Aronobal, Bayta, and me. Plus the Spider, of course. “Well, that went well,” I commented.

“He’ll learn,” Kennrick said cynically, his gaze lingering on the empty doorway. “Dr. Witherspoon, I mean. Everyone thinks dealing with Shorshians is a walk down the escalator. But he’ll learn.”

He looked at Aronobal. “But I don’t have to tell you that, do I?” he went on. “The Filiaelian Assembly has been dealing with them for at least six hundred years now.”

“I have never had trouble with the Shorshic people,” Aronobal said diplomatically.

“Then you’re the exception,” Kennrick said. “Half my job seems to consist of smoothing those waters.” He turned back to me. “So what now? We wait until they get back?”

“Unless you want to risk Strinni’s wrath by starting before the opening bell,” I said.

He grimaced. “No, thanks.” He started to say something else, but instead gave a wide yawn. “Hell with this. I’ll be in my compartment if you need me.”

“On your way, you might consider briefing the Filiaelians in your party about the situation,” I suggested as he headed for the door.

“Forget it,” he said. “You think waking up Shorshians with this kind of news is a bad idea, you should try it with Filiaelians.” His lip twitched and he looked back at Aronobal. “At least with santra -rank Filiaelians,” he amended.

Aronobal inclined her head but said nothing. Kennrick held his pose for a moment, probably trying to think of some other way to apologize further without looking like either a boor or an idiot, then gave up and looked back at me instead. “Call me if you learn anything.”

With that, he escaped into the corridor. I drifted to the doorway, arriving just in time to see the vestibule door leading into the next car close behind him.

“He is not very diplomatic.” Aronobal said darkly. “I am surprised that someone chose him to manage dealings with more civilized beings.”

The insult had clearly been directed at Kennrick, but I found myself wincing a little anyway. Things that smudged one Human had a tendency to smudge all of us. “He may be better when he’s not woken up in the middle of the night to deal with multiple deaths,” I suggested.

Aronobal gazed down her long face at me, her nose blaze darkening a little. “A well-trained manager should know how to deal with even the unexpected.”