Nothing happened.
I frowned, pressing the plunger a little harder. But it didn’t move. The fluid level stubbornly remained right where it was, without so much as a drop seeping out the end of the needle.
“Is there trouble?” Emikai asked.
“Yes, but I don’t know what,” I said, peering closely at the hypo. I couldn’t see anything wrong with it. “I can’t get the fluid to expel.”
“Let me see.”
I handed it over, and for a few seconds he carefully turned it over in his hands as he studied it. “Well?” I asked.
“I do not see any problem,” he said. “But it seems bulkier, somehow, than the hypos I have used in the past.”
“Interesting,” I said. “With Human equipment of this sort, the goal is usually to make things lighter and simpler rather than bulkier.”
“That is generally the same with us, as well,” Emikai said. “Can you tell me what fluid this is?”
I shook my head. “I can identify Human blood and a couple of other fluids by sight. But I don’t know this one.”
“But you did see it being withdrawn from Ms. German?”
“I—” I broke off, a strange thought tugging suddenly at the base of my skull. “I saw a tech stick the needle into one of the access tubes they’ve got plugged into her,” I said slowly. “I also saw him pull on the plunger. But that’s not what you asked, is it?”
“No, it is not,” Emikai said, and from the tone of his voice I could tell he was thinking the same thing I was. “Shall we perform an experiment?”
I gestured. “Go for it.”
He shifted the hypo to a two-handed grip, shot me a final look, and carefully pulled on the plunger.
The level of the amber fluid didn’t change, as it should have if there were a little of the stuff still inside the needle itself. Nor did bubbles appear in the fluid, as there should have if the needle was instead empty and Emikai was merely sucking air.
And then, as we watched, something did happen. A small droplet of a clear liquid oozed from the end of the needle.
I eyed the droplet a moment, then shifted my gaze back to Emikai. “Well, well,” I said. “Isn’t that interesting?”
“A reverse-valved hypo,” Emikai rumbled, still staring at the droplet. “But this makes no sense. She is in a hospital facility, where injections and medications are both expected and commonplace. Why use deception of this sort?”
“Precisely because she is in a hospital facility,” I said darkly. “Everything she’s officially given has to be identified, double-checked, and recorded. But with these, they can pump her full of stuff that’s completely off the radar, all under the guise of taking samples.”
I nodded toward the living room. “That also explains why there were two blood-sample hypos instead of just one. The first was a regular hypo, with a genuine blood sample, while the other was one of these tricked-out jobs.”
“Two reverse-valved hypos,” Emikai murmured thoughtfully. “One injection going to her and the other to her unborn child?”
“Or one intramuscular and one intravenous,” I said. “Or one into the bloodstream and the other into the intestines or liver. Take your pick.”
Emikai turned his gaze in the direction of the living room. “The santra you have taken prisoner. Is he one of those involved?”
“I think so,” I said. “If not directly, then at least peripherally. Who is he?”
Emikai shook his head. “I do not yet know.”
“You just said he’s a santra,” I said, frowning. “If you don’t know who he is, how do you know that?”
“It is obvious he has had a great deal of genetic work done,” Emikai said, gesturing toward his own throat. “From that it follows that he is a santra.”
“I thought santra was a social or political title,” I said. “It means exalted one, doesn’t it?”
“A more accurate translation would be distinguished one, and as such can also be applied to those with extensive genetic alterations,” Emikai said. “In actual practice, of course, those two populations largely coincide.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” I said, though the idea of getting your DNA remodeled just because you had the money and status to do it sounded slightly ridiculous. Still, it wasn’t any crazier than getting elaborate tattoos or jewelry implants, each of which had been fashionable for a time in various upper-class Human societies. “So what exactly does his status mean to all this?”
Emikai cocked his head. “I do not understand.”
“Back on the super-express you said that as an ex-cop you were still required to obey orders given to you by Filiaelian santras,” I reminded him. “Does that mean you have to take orders from him once he wakes up?”
I’d been hoping for a quick answer, a firm and automatic assurance that even santras weren’t above the law. The lengthening silence wasn’t a good sign. “Well?” I prompted.
“I can certainly restrain any Filiaelian who has clearly broken the law, santra or otherwise,” he said. “I also would have no difficulty in turning over a suspected lawbreaker to currently active enforcement officers.” He hesitated. “But I have as yet seen no evidence that this santra has committed any crime. I also infer that you do not wish to turn him over to the Kuzyatru Station patrollers at this time.”
“He did assault me,” I pointed out.
“A crime for which I have no proof other than your statement,” Emikai countered. “Proper protocol would call for an interrogation of both parties in an attempt to determine the truth.”
I grimaced. This was starting to get awkward. “If we turn him over to the patrollers, his friends will know he’s been taken,” I said. “They’ll also find out what happened between him and me, which they’ll then try to twist against me.”
“We could arrange to keep him incommunicado.”
“Trust me, they’d get around that,” I said grimly. “Once they’ve figured out what we know—which isn’t much, but they don’t know that it isn’t much—they would have two options. Either they would step up whatever they’re doing to Ms. German, or else they would shut down completely and go to ground. At this point, we aren’t ready for either option.”
“But there are legal requirements at play,” Emikai said. “You have no proof that this person has committed a crime.”
“We have that hypo,” I pointed out. “That proves some kind of crime is under way.” I snapped my fingers. “He also has a passkey that lets him into other people’s apartments. That can’t be legal for him to have, can it?”
For a long moment Emikai gazed down at the gimmicked hypo in his hand. “What do you wish from me?” he asked at last.
“Let me find a place where I can stash him for a few days,” I said. “Bayta’s on her way to help with the move, so you don’t have to be involved with that if it makes you uncomfortable. A couple of days will hopefully buy us enough time to figure out what they’re up to.”
“If he is allied with others, his disappearance will not go unnoticed,” Emikai pointed out.
“True, but a complete disappearance is a lot more enigmatic and disconcerting than having him pop up in the local nexus lockup,” I said. “Any uncertainty and hesitation on their part is to our advantage.”
“And if they counter by attacking Ms. German?” he asked, his voice dark and ominous. “My contract requires me to protect her.”
“It’s a calculated risk,” I admitted. “But right now, it’s our best option.” I hesitated. “If it helps any, I think they’re more likely to come after me than they are to go after Ms. German. After all, I was apparently the one on today’s menu.”