“What do you wish me to do?” the Modhri countered. “Order the colonies within all of those Eyes to die?”
“And if I gave you that order?”
The woman’s face tightened. “Don’t ask me to do that,” she warned, her voice dark and grim. “Don’t ever ask me to do that. Ever.”
“Take it easy,” I said, thrown a little by the Modhri’s reaction. “And watch your tone. You’ve agreed to follow my orders, remember? Besides, none of your individual colonies are of lasting importance.”
“Don’t ever ask such a thing of me,” the Modhri said again.
“Don’t push it, Compton,” Morse warned quietly. “You know what happens when a mind segment starts losing pieces.”
I grimaced. I did, too. It was the loss of two of his component parts to the murderer on our first super-express that had pushed that mind segment into making an alliance with me in the first place. “I understand your feelings,” I said. “But this is war. The odds are very high that some of us won’t live through it. Possibly none of us. You say you’ll follow my orders. But will you still say that when your walkers start dying and your mind segments feel their lives slipping away?”
“Compton, what the hell are you doing?” Morse asked. “You trying to kink the whole deal?”
“I’m trying to make sure he’s fully counted the cost,” I said. “The Modhri is like a wolf. He’s predatory, driven to grow and take over everything around him. That could make him an unreliable ally, especially if he’s going to argue every order on the grounds that it could hurt a little.”
“Compton—”
“It also makes him an unpleasant friend,” I continued. “You’d have a hard time finding people who would want a wolf living with them. You’d never know when something would set it off, and you’d suddenly be turned into lunch. Or a mindless puppet, rather.”
“I am what I am,” the old woman said, the sadness in her voice even more pronounced. Clearly, the Modhri was wondering if I was having second thoughts about our deal. “I am what I was created to be.”
“And if you’re talking about me, I have no problem with our current relationship,” Morse added.
“I understand that,” I said, nodding. “But you’re an extraordinary person. Most people, as I say, wouldn’t live with a wolf.” I raised my eyebrows. “But a lot of people are more than happy to share their lives with a loyal, trustworthy dog.”
I looked back at the old woman. “Tell me, Modhri. What would you do if you were offered the chance to change from a wolf into that loyal, trustworthy dog?”
Her forehead wrinkled. “I don’t understand.”
“You said you were the way you were created,” I told him. “So are all the rest of us. But none of us has to stay that way. We can change. You can change. The question is whether you’re willing to do so.”
For the first time the woman’s eyes opened. “How?” she asked.
I braced myself. The next thirty seconds would make or break this whole deal. “You invite in the Abomination.”
“The what?” Morse asked, frowning. “What the hell is—?” Abruptly, he broke off. “Oh,” he said in a suddenly subdued tone.
“What’s an Abomination?” Terese asked.
“It’s exactly what I just said: a calm, loyal dog to the Modhri’s wolf,” I told her. “Modified coral, modified walkers. They actually call themselves the Melding—Abomination is the Modhri’s term.” I frowned at Morse as something suddenly hit me. “In fact, now that I think about it, the Melding is exactly the same format that the Modhri’s running with Agent Morse right now.”
“It would change me,” the old woman said, her voice trembling now. “I would never again be the same.”
“Yes, that’s true,” I said, putting all the soothing confidence and sympathy into my voice that I could. “And I understand that change can be frightening, especially a change of this magnitude. I also know you fought the whole idea of that change once before.”
“You were there,” Morse murmured.
“Very much so,” I agreed. “But the situation’s changed. It’s no longer a choice of living as the Modhri or living as the Melding. It’s a question of living free or as the Shonkla-raa’s slave.”
The woman shivered. “It can’t work,” she murmured tautly. “It would change me. It can’t work.”
“Yes, it can,” I assured the Modhri. “It will. The Melding’s a cooperative partnership, which is what you’ve stated you want to be.”
“And the Melding coral isn’t truly alien to you,” Bayta added quietly. “It’s only a modification of what you already are. The change won’t be nearly as large or as terrible as you think.”
“But whatever the change, it will be permanent,” the Modhri said.
“Probably,” I conceded, watching the old woman’s face. The Modhri was teetering on the edge, fear and hope pulling in opposite directions.
I braced myself. Time to play my final card.
“There’s one other thing to consider,” I said. “Bayta’s right about the Melding coral being similar to yours. But it’s not identical, and as a result the people in the Melding run on a slightly different telepathic frequency than you do.” I paused, waiting for the Modhri to find the obvious conclusion for himself.
Morse got it first. “The Shonkla-raa may not be able to control them,” he said, an edge of cautious excitement in his voice. “Or to control us once we’ve combined with them.”
“That’s my hope,” I said, nodding. “Now, it may be that the Shonkla-raa will still be able to affect the Melding the same way they do the Spiders and Bayta, which pretty much freezes them in confusion. But having your Eyes standing around like statues instead of actively shooting at us will go a long way toward making you useless as a weapon.”
“Agreed,” the Modhri said. The fear was still in his voice, but the hesitation was gone. He was doing this to get out from under the Shonkla-raa’s thumb, and any step in that direction was a good one. “I accept your offer. How do we proceed?”
“We start by bringing the same offer to the Melding,” I said. “Bayta and I will do that. While we’re gone, I suggest you send some of your Eyes to Homshil, Jurskala, and other major Quadrail centers in the area. The more mind segments who get the word, the faster we’ll be able to get the whole Modhri community up to speed on the plan.”
“You think that’s wise?” Morse asked. “The more we spread the word, the easier it’ll be for some wandering Shonkla-raa to grab an Eye at random and find out what we’re up to.”
“Let them,” I said as casually as I could manage. I was, in fact, counting on the Shonkla-raa doing that very thing. “Knowing that we’re going to alter the Modhri’s character won’t do them a damn bit of good until they know what direction that alteration will take.”
“Because they can’t adjust their control tone and telepathic frequency until they know what ours will be,” Morse said, nodding. “They might be able to adjust long-term, but not short-term.”
“And with luck, short-term is all we’ll need,” I agreed. “As for you, I’m thinking I’d like you to come along with Bayta and me. Ride shotgun, and all that.”
Morse’s forehead creased. “Are you sure? I’m as vulnerable as anyone else.”
“In theory, yes,” I said. “But as far as I know, the Shonkla-raa have never tried their bag of tricks on a Human walker before. You might surprise them.”
“Or I might not,” Morse warned.
“It’s worth the risk,” I said firmly.
“You’re the boss.” Morse’s eyes flicked to Terese. “Or I could let you two go and I could escort Ms. German back to Earth.”
“Yes, let’s do that,” Terese spoke up before I could answer.