All of them, that is, except one. He was hanging back behind the general pandemonium, standing motionless and gazing steadily at me.
I held my pose for another three seconds, knowing that the more Jumpsuits who spotted the reader and came to the intended conclusion, the better. Then, lowering my arm, I again tapped a couple of keys at random and charged into and through the bedlam and down the hallway. My guide waited until I was almost to him, then turned and loped off, staying just ahead of me.
“Stop the attack and send them back to where they all came from,” I ordered the watchdog quietly as he led me around a corner into a cross-corridor. “Have them look shocked and bewildered, like they’ve just come to their senses and have no idea what just happened. Even better, if you can pull it off, have them look embarrassed or frightened.”
The watchdog gave an acknowledging yip and picked up his pace. Ahead, I could see an open service-elevator door off the corridor to the right. My guide gave me another yip and put on a final burst of speed, skidding a little on the floor as he cornered, and disappeared through the open door. With a final glance over my shoulder, I followed.
Doug and Minnario were waiting, the other watchdog panting beside them, when I ducked through the doorway. “Keypad beside the floor-selector panel,” Minnario murmured. “Enter the code 33951 and then Floor 201.”
I nodded and punched the keys as instructed, relieved that the Filly obsession with nucleics and nucleic locks hadn’t extended to their maintenance equipment. Though that was probably because there were too many people using the gear to make something like that practical. “Thanks for the assist, by the way,” I said as the door slid shut and we headed up. “But next time, clear it with me first, will you? The last thing we can afford is for the Shonkla-raa to realize—”
“There is trouble, Compton,” Minnario murmured. “They have her.”
My heart seized up in my chest. “What?” I demanded.
“They have her,” he repeated miserably. “They have Bayta.”
SIXTEEN
“They took her from behind,” he told me, his voice strained. “There were two of them—there may have been more waiting, but no one else joined in the attack. I’m so very sorry—”
“Forget the sorry,” I bit out, forcing back my own anger and fear. Regrets and recriminations wouldn’t do anything to help Bayta now. “What did they do? How did they attack? Calm down and think.”
“They came from behind,” the Modhri said, sounding marginally calmer. “I think they must have been on the same train.”
“That, or they had someone waiting at every stop, which is pretty unlikely,” I agreed grimly. They probably tailed her from the courtroom, ready to snatch her if and when Emikai got careless.
But I’d changed the game when I broke out of Hchchu’s office. Wandek’s response had been to abandon his original policy of stealth and secrecy and to send an order for them to move in and take her.
The crucial question was how much the Shonkla-raa knew or suspected. “Who did they attack first?” I asked Minnario. “Emikai or Ty?”
“Emikai,” he said. “It was a well-coordinated attack. One of them hit the nerve centers in his back and side, and when those impacts swung him around the other attacker paralyzed his gun arm and then knocked the air out of his lungs with a blow to his chest.”
“What about Ty? Did they take him out right away?”
“No, not until after they’d subdued Bayta,” he said. “The first attacker grabbed her arms while the second finished disabling Emikai. She managed to kick him twice, but though the kicks seemed to be on target there was no apparent effect.”
I nodded. Bayta may not have liked watching my sparring sessions with Emikai, but it was obvious she’d been taking mental notes on where and how to hit a Filly. Unfortunately, the Shonkla-raa had already been way ahead of her. “They probably had their most vulnerable nerve centers moved or overlaid when they had their throat work done,” I said. “Emikai warned me about that possibility. What happened next?”
“Once Emikai was down, the second attacker joined the first in subduing Bayta,” the Modhri said. “They each took an arm, holding her close so that she couldn’t kick them anymore.” Minnario’s face creased in a frown. “And then, as they started to drag her away, she said something. She shouted, ‘To Scotland! To Scotland!’”
I frowned. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “Who was she saying it to?”
“She was facing Emikai at the time,” the Modhri said slowly. “But I had the impression she was actually talking to me. It was then that the second attacker seemed to notice Ty and kicked him in the belly. He was disabled and couldn’t follow, but could only watch as they took her down the corridor to one of the nearby elevators.”
I looked down at Doug and the other watchdog, feeling my stomach curdle. It wasn’t enough that they’d taken down Emikai, but they’d kicked a dog, too. Bastards. “Is he okay?”
“How can you think—?” The Modhri broke off. “Yes, he’ll recover. So will Emikai, though you haven’t asked.”
“I haven’t asked because I expected them to be more careful with him than with Ty,” I growled. “Emikai’s an ex-cop, and no one kills or seriously injures a cop unless they absolutely have to. Aside from everything else, it can be bad for your health when the other cops catch up with you.” I took a deep breath. “Okay. We’ve got some good news, and some bad news. The bad news is obvious. The good news is that the Shonkla-raa haven’t yet tumbled to the fact that you’re here, and that you’re inside the watchdogs.”
“How do you conclude that?” the Modhri asked. “Because they attacked Emikai first?”
“More precisely because they didn’t attack Ty first,” I said. “They also didn’t make sure he was dead or unconscious, which they should have if they’d known you were there and didn’t want you monitoring the rest of the proceedings. Bayta tried to help that along by shouting her message toward Emikai instead of Ty. If we’re lucky, they’ll remain clueless long enough for us to get her free.”
“How do we … how do we do that?” the Modhri asked.
I frowned at Minnario’s face. He wasn’t looking good at all. “Modhri, what’s happening with Minnario? Is he getting worse?”
“I will hold on as long as possible,” the Modhri said. “What did she mean, to Scotland?”
“Obviously, that was a message to me,” I said, resting two fingers against the side of Minnario’s neck. His pulse was slow and thready. “Where are we heading, anyway?”
“The atmosphere treatment and renewal area in the upper domed section,” the Modhri said. “Access requires the code you used a moment ago, which means only techs and supervisors should be there. What sort of message would it be?”
“First things first,” I said, trying to get my brain working. They weren’t going to hurt Bayta, I reminded myself firmly. They wanted to study her, and that would take time. We still had time. “How many walkers do you have aboard Proteus?”
“Four hundred and sixty-eight, all msikai-dorosli,” he said. “There are also several upper-level Filiaelians and mid-level techs whom I may be able to influence through thought viruses.”
“That could be handy,” I said. “How often do any of the watchdogs wander off on their own? Or are they mostly locked up in apartments or offices?”
“Occasionally, one is seen out alone,” the Modhri said. “But not commonly.”
“Can you use thought viruses on their masters to get them to go out for some exercise?” I asked. “We need to get them out looking for Bayta.”
“I may be able to do that,” the Modhri said. “But I don’t think it will be necessary. Give me a little more time, and I’ll find her.”