Judgment at Proteus q-5

by Timothy Zahn

  [Quite content, thank you,] Minnario assured him. [But for now, I’m still very tired. If you’ll be good enough, Mr. Compton, to show me to my new quarters?]

  * * *

  Minnario’s chair couldn’t safely use the glideways, which meant we had to walk the normal corridor the entire way, which meant that it was another long and tiring hour before Bayta and I and my watchdogs—both of them this time—were finally in our new quarters.

  Doug and Ty, at least, seemed pleased with the new arrangement. They made a joint beeline for the closet and food dishes, and a minute later the room was filled with the sound of chomping and slurping.

  “Any idea why Ty decided to stay with you?” I asked Bayta as we watched them eat.

  “No,” she said. “I suppose it’s possible that Chinzro Hchchu actually intended one of them to stay with each of us.”

  “That wasn’t what it sounded like when he gave the orders,” I reminded her.

  “Maybe there are nuances in his Fili that neither of us caught.”

  “Maybe.” I looked at the bed, then headed for the couch. “I’ll be over here if you need me,” I said over my shoulder. “You can have first crack at the bathroom.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice oddly strained.

  “Of course.” I tried to look her in the eye, but for some reason I was unable to do so. “Unless you had some different arrangement in mind.”

  “No.” She paused. “But someone else apparently does. Either the Shonkla-raa or the Modhri.”

  I felt my throat tighten. “Luckily, we don’t care what they want,” I said. “I’ll need to steal one of your pillows and a blanket, though.”

  “Of course.” She paused again. “Do you think the room is safe?”

  I shrugged. “If Minnario’s timeline is right, he got here pretty much right after we left, right while the tech was coding our DNA—well, mine, anyway—into the lock. That doesn’t leave much time for someone to nip in here and plant a bunch of bugs.”

  “I suppose,” Bayta said. But her eyes were troubled. She opened her mouth—

  “Meanwhile, it’s been a long day, and tomorrow’s looking to be just as bad,” I said before she could speak. “Go get your bedtime prep done so that I can do mine, and let’s get some sleep.”

  “All right,” she said, gazing at me with the kind of wary intensity that told me she was on the same wavelength that I was.

  Minnario’s timeline did indicate that no one would have had time to bug our quarters. But there was no way to know whether Minnario’s timeline was accurate.

  Bayta headed into the half-bath, and then it was my turn. By the time I emerged she was already snuggled down in bed, the blankets pulled up to her chin.

  So, to my surprise, was Ty. He had taken up a crossways position at the very head of the bed, his pineapple back pressed against the headboard as if he’d been stapled there. I didn’t know whether or not Bayta had made an effort to get rid of him, but fortunately the bed was long enough that she had enough room despite his presence. She’d also managed to snag the remaining pillow before he got to it.

  Doug, for his part, had also skipped out on his doggie bed and was curled up in front of the door. If I’d been thinking about going for a solitary walk during the quiet of the Proteus night, I would have had to seriously revise my plans.

  I padded over to the bed and, with only a little hesitation, lay down on top of the blankets beside Bayta. “You okay?” I whispered in her ear, feeling the warmth of her body through the bedding as I pressed myself close to her.

  “Yes,” she said. But I could hear the tension in her voice.

  Small wonder. We’d done this pretend-snuggling thing once before, also as a way of talking without our conversation being picked up by the bugs that had been planted in that room.

  But things had been different then. I’d hardly known Bayta, hadn’t trusted her farther than I could throw a drudge Spider, and hadn’t found her all that attractive.

  Now all of that had changed. All of it.

  I didn’t know what Bayta was thinking or feeling. Most of me really didn’t want to know.

  “Do you think he was lying?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted, rolling my eyes toward the feathery underbelly a few centimeters from the top of my head, an underbelly that had started a low rumbling. Either Ty had a snoring problem, or the damn things actually purred. “On the other hand, I’m almost positive the other room was bugged, so there was zero chance there of a private conversation,” I went on. “Here, at least we’ve got a shot at it. Besides, what reason would Minnario have to lie?”

  “The answer to that might depend on why Attorney Minnario is on Proteus in the first place.”

  I grimaced in the darkness. “Theoretically, for medical treatment.”

  “And we both know that’s not the whole story.”

  “Right, but what is?” I asked. “My first assumption was that he was brought in to be a witness against me in Muzzfor’s death. But Hchchu hasn’t even mentioned Muzzfor. It’s also counterproductive for your hoped-for star witness to suddenly decide to represent the other team.”

  “So why did he do that?” Bayta persisted. “Why would he decide on the spur of the moment to donate his time to a Human he barely knows? Especially a Human who’s facing serious charges that could very well be true?”

  “There are still a few crazy idealistic crusading attorneys out there,” I said. “Maybe he’s a fan of old dit-rec courtroom dramas. Or maybe he really believes that anyone who could take down a multiple murderer is deserving of a good legal defense.”

  “Or Chinzro Hchchu or the Shonkla-raa brought him in to defend you so that they could get close to us,” Bayta countered.

  “Could be,” I agreed. “The problem with that is, why bother? There have to be dozens of lawyers right here on Proteus they could recruit without having to haul Minnario in, especially with what we all agree is a pathetically weak excuse. Without an attorney of our own on hand, we would have to take whoever Hchchu offered.”

  “Except that we might suspect an appointed attorney of being in league with them.”

  “Not a Filly lawyer,” I said firmly. “Genetic engineering, remember? I don’t think they’re capable of being in cahoots with anyone except their current client. Anyway, if Minnario was working with Hchchu, why on Earth did he so inconveniently disappear this evening, thereby screwing up Hchchu’s hearing schedule? For that matter, why did he volunteer to move to a room that now has a whole bunch of useless bugs in it?”

  “Useless because we’re not there?”

  “Useless because there are Shorshic vectored force thrusters operating in there,” I said. “Bugs by definition are tiny microphones and transmitters, and thruster harmonics screw up most radio frequencies something fierce. That’s probably why Minnario’s phone transponder messes up his controls—there are only a few frequencies that the thrusters don’t blanket, and phones and local control systems have to share them. No, whoever’s listening in on Minnario’s room is going to get nothing but unreadable and unfilterable static.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Bayta said thoughtfully. “Maybe we should start carrying a thruster around with us.”

  “High-level diplomats often do, actually,” I said. “One final point: if Hchchu and Minnario were trying to separate us, why would Minnario remind everyone that you qualify as a witness? I sure hadn’t thought of that dodge.”

  “Could we have two different sides working at cross-purposes?” Bayta suggested slowly. “Perhaps Chinzro Hchchu wants to convict you of those six murders and doesn’t want me around for the trial, while the Shonkla-raa does want me at the trial so that we’ll both be away from Terese.”

  I pursed my lips. Another angle I hadn’t thought of. I was definitely slipping. “Could be,” I agreed. “Certainly the whole idea of saddling us with these watchdogs theoretically gives them the power to control all our movements…”

&nb
sp; I trailed off as something suddenly struck me. “What is it?” Bayta asked tensely.

  “I was just wondering about the way Ty stuck with you tonight,” I said. “Clearly, the Fillies—presumably including Hchchu—expected both of them to come here with me, even though they knew we were supposedly going to be staying in different quarters. That implies there wasn’t any subtle nuance in Hchchu’s instructions to the watchdogs.”

  “Maybe they misunderstood their orders,” Bayta suggested.

  “Or maybe you’re right about two groups working at cross-purposes.”

  “Perhaps.” Bayta was silent a moment. “Do you suppose one or the other of those groups may have planted trackers in them?”

  “Unlikely,” I assured her. “Without a collar or other similar add-on, the only place for anyone to put something like that is inside the animal itself. That requires a fair amount of prep work, more than anyone got after Minnario charged up on his white horse and disrupted everyone’s plans. No, I’m pretty sure they’re clean.”

  “That makes sense, I suppose,” she said. “It’s not like someone couldn’t put us under nearly constant observation anyway, assuming they had access to the security camera system.”

  “Exactly,” I agreed. “Which I’m guessing they won’t do, since it would involve awkward questions from the patrollers. Much easier to simply have us followed.” I frowned down at Doug. “Which still leaves us with our watchdog tag-team puzzle. I wonder who aboard Proteus is authorized to give these things orders.”

  “Maybe Attorney Minnario can find out.”

  “Or maybe I can do it myself,” I said. “I think I’ll take a few minutes and see what files the computer will let me get into.”

  “Do you want any help?”

  “No, you’d better get to sleep,” I said. “Remember that Emikai will be here bright and early.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve got no particular reason not to. He was a cop, which means he’s got his own set of genetic engineering and behavioral restraints.”

  “Only his loyalties aren’t to us,” Bayta reminded me. “They’re to the Filiaelian santras.”

  “There’s that,” I conceded. “And when I say there’s no reason not to trust him, I also mean there’s no reason to trust him, either. We’ll have to watch him—and Minnario—and see how this all plays out.”

  “While also watching Terese and Dr. Aronobal?”

  “Like I say, tomorrow’s going to be a full and rich day,” I said. “Get some sleep.” I patted her shoulder through the blankets and started to roll off the bed.

  “Why Ty?” she asked suddenly.

  “What?” I asked, frowning, as I rolled back to her again.

  “Doug I understand,” she said. “They look a little like Earth dogs. But why do you call the other one Ty?”

  “Actually, Doug has nothing to do with the word dog,” I said. “It’s the mask sort of things they have around their eyes. They remind me of an old character from Earth literature named Zorro. Doug and Ty come from Douglas Fairbanks and Tyrone Power, the actors who played the character in the first two dit-rec adventure adaptations of the stories.”

  “Oh,” Bayta said. “I don’t think you’ve ever showed me those.”

  “I’ll put them on the list,” I promised. “Right after The Hound of the Baskervilles.”

  “The what?”

  “Never mind,” I told her, climbing off the bed. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  FIVE

  The couch was too short for me to stretch out comfortably, but I was able to take off the cushions and lay them out on the floor instead. That, along with the extension provided by the pillow I’d taken from the bed, made my pallet long enough to serve as a tolerable sleeping platform.

  It was colder on the floor than I’d expected, and even wrapping myself up in my blanket like a burrito left me on the cool side of comfortable. Fortunately, a few minutes after I got settled Doug seemed to realize I was in for the night and padded over to lie down beside me. He wasn’t exactly cuddly, certainly not in the way a real dog would be, but the radiated heat was welcome. Besides, I could hardly feel his hard pineapple hide through the blanket.

  Emikai and a pair of Jumpsuits arrived precisely at nine o’clock the next morning. Bayta and I were ready, and together we headed off through the station’s labyrinth of corridors, glideways, elevators, and bullet trains. I tried to keep track of the twists and turns, but within the first ten minutes I was thoroughly lost. If for some reason Emikai refused to guide us back home, we would likely be sleeping in somebody’s doorway tonight.

  I’d seen dozens of courtrooms over the years, and the Proteus version was right up there with the best of them. Tall double doors led into a chamber that was large and imposing, with a high and long judge’s bench at the far end and only marginally less grand places for the prosecution and defense. Unlike the usual high-class wood-paneled Human courtroom, though, this one was done completely in dressed stone, from floor to ceiling, extending even to the seats and tables. Fortunately, the seats had been furnished with cushions and back rests.

  Hchchu was waiting, seated at the prosecutor’s table with no fewer than four readers spread out on the table in front of him. Either he was planning to refer to four separate versions of Filly law or else he didn’t trust bookmarks for retrieving the relevant pages. Minnario was also there, peering at his reader as he hovered in his chair at one end of the defense table.

  More interestingly, at least to me, the judges also were already seated, a marked departure from the Human custom in these matters. There were four of them, each dressed in an identical outfit of layered gray and dark blue with elaborate shoulder points and collar and sleeve tucks, the whole ensemble topped by a floppy hat. I’d never seen such garb on Fillies before, not even in pictures, and as Emikai ushered Bayta and me to the defense table I wondered if the clothing was something out of the Slisst Protocols. Something I might want to ask about later.

  “You will sit with your attorney,” Emikai murmured to me as I started forward. “But your assistant must wait back here with us.”

  I looked at Bayta. “I’ll be all right,” she assured me. “Go on.”

  I nodded to her and crossed the expanse of stone toward my seat. Way too much empty space, I knew, for the kind of economy of scale demanded by anything built in space. The open area probably served as a visitors’ gallery during high-profile cases.

  [You’re late,] Minnario chided quietly as I sat down on the stone bench beside him. There was a scuffling noise, and I looked down as Doug and Ty settled themselves comfortably on the floor beside my seat. Apparently, whatever order or mistaken assumption had briefly kept Ty with Bayta last night was all over now.

  “I make it three minutes till,” I told Minnario.

  [The guardlaws and your opponent are already here,] Minnario countered. [By arriving last you’ve given up any challenge to the high ground.]

  I was opening my mouth to ask what the hell that was supposed to mean when the Filly at the far end of the judges’ bench gave a startlingly bird-like trilling whinny. {The groundstage is begun,} he announced in a loud voice. A loud and familiar voice.

  I took a second, closer look. I was right. The judge was none other than Usantra Wandek.

  Minnario nudged me and pointed to the table in front me. I looked away from Wandek, to see that a section of the table had lit up with an English translation of the Fili. It made a nice counterpoint to the Nemuspee translation running on Minnario’s chair display. {You of the adversaries are met to seek truth, divide honor, and find justice,} Wandek continued. {We of the guardlaws are met to hone the sword and guide the spear.}

  I grimaced. Not exactly the conversational direction a defendant liked to hear from his judges. “Is this standard courtroom procedure?” I murmured to Minnario.

  The Nemut twitched his fingers in a shushing motion. {If any here has words of confession or remors
e, let him speak now,} Wandek continued. His eyes were steady on me, but that might have been because he’d spotted me talking over his speech. I held his gaze, and after another couple of seconds he shifted his attention to Minnario. {You speak for this adversary?}

  [I do,] Minnario replied. Now that the proceedings had begun, I noted that the table was also running a translation of his Nemuspee.

  {And you have studied the rules and precedents of the Slisst Protocols?}

  [I have.]

  {Then you should already be aware that adversaries’ companions are not permitted on this ground,} Wandek said, giving a sharp nod toward Bayta.

  [She is not merely a companion, but a witness,] Minnario pointed out.

  {This is the groundstage,} Wandek said, his tone the annoyance of a teacher trying to deal with a slightly dim student who keeps making the same mistake over and over. {Witnesses are not yet to be examined.}

  [I understand,] Minnario said calmly. [But Mr. Compton is on trial for a crime that can carry the death penalty. In such a case, Protocol Fifty-seven states his life partner may be present for all proceedings.]

  I sat up a little straighter on the stone bench. My life partner? That was stretching reality a bit far.

  Wandek wasn’t buying it, either. {I see no ring, mark, or sash,} he said pointedly.

  [No such indicators are necessary,] Minnario said. [They are Humans, and Human custom provides for what is called common-law life partnership. All that is required is a period of cohabitation and a commitment to one another.]

  Wandek looked at me, and I worked hard to keep my face expressionless. Minnario was definitely playing fast and loose with this one, especially the cohabiting bit. But sifting through Human legal terms was tricky enough for Humans, let alone Fillies. And if it kept Bayta and me together through this mess, I was willing to play along.

  {Very well,} Wandek said at last. I could tell he still wasn’t buying it, but at the moment he didn’t have anything solid to hang his suspicions on. {Until the court has had an opportunity to assess the validity of your claim, she may remain.}