“Speaking of your comm,” I said, “there’s supposed to be a tracker in it for police to use in case of emergency.”
[Yes—the location transponder,] Minnario said, nodding. [My comm did indeed come with such a device. But it unfortunately interfered with the control systems of my chair and I had to have it removed. Are you ready?]
I looked at Emikai, who gave a little shrug. “However you wish to arrange your sleeping quarters is of no matter to me or to Kuzyatru Station,” the Filly said. “But you should know that the preliminary hearing postponed from this evening has now been rescheduled for tomorrow at ten o’clock.”
I nodded. “Bayta and I will be there.”
Emikai seemed to brace himself. “Chinzro Hchchu has also ruled that your assistant is not permitted to attend.”
[Of course she may attend,] Minnario spoke up. [Not as Mr. Compton’s assistant, but as my chief witness of the events surrounding the charges against him. As such, she may attend all proceedings.]
I felt my cheeks warming. The most blatantly obvious logic possible, and I’d missed it completely.
So, apparently, had Emikai. “Ah,” he said, sounding as bemused as I felt. “Are you certain that is part of the Slisst Protocols?”
[Very certain,] Minnario said firmly. [As it happens, I happened to be studying that very section of the Protocols just before I settled down to sleep.]
“I see,” Emikai said. “I will be certain to bring that to Chinzro Hchchu’s attention.” He turned back to me. “A patroller will meet you here at nine o’clock to escort you to the hearing room.”
“I’d prefer that you come yourself,” I told him.
He seemed to measure me with his eyes. “As you wish,” he said. “I will meet you here then.” He looked at Minnario. “I presume you will be content with an ordinary patroller as your escort?”
[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.”