“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “We know the Shonkla-raa still want you, and we also know they have some sort of force on Earth that hunts for pregnant women to exploit. We can’t risk you going back yet.”
“And how is that your decision?” Terese demanded.
“Because right now we’re the only ones who can protect you,” I said.
“Is it me you care about?” she shot back. “Or this?” She jabbed a finger toward her belly.
“We care about you both,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s what Aronobal said, too,” she said acidly. “My life isn’t your business, Compton, and I’m done with this.” She gestured to Morse. “You—take me back to Earth. Now.”
“I’ll be happy to take you back to the Terra Quadrail station, if that’s what you want,” Morse said gravely. “But as you just heard, I have other important duties I need to perform. I can’t take you all the way to Earth.”
“Fine,” Terese said. “I can get back on my own.”
“Of course,” Morse said. “But Compton’s right. Once our protection is removed, the Shonkla-raa and their agents will have little trouble taking your child.”
Terese snorted. “They can have him.”
“And since he’s not yet developed enough for them to risk removal,” Morse continued smoothly, “they’ll need to take you along with him. And to keep you for several more weeks.”
“Until they think it’s safe enough for them to cut you open and take him out,” I added.
Terese swallowed hard. “You’re just trying to scare me.”
“We’re trying to give you the realities of the situation,” Morse said. “Staying with Compton and Bayta may be uncomfortable for you. But it won’t be nearly as uncomfortable as being in Shonkla-raa hands again.”
Terese looked like she was ready to chew sand. But she just sighed. “Fine,” she muttered. “Whatever.”
“So it’s settled,” I said. “Bayta, Terese, Morse, and I will head out to talk to the Melding, while you send some Eyes to play Paul Revere.”
“And then?” the Modhri asked.
“I’ll let you know once I’ve talked to the Melding,” I said.
“You must have some thoughts,” the Modhri persisted.
“I have a few,” I said. “It would be best if we didn’t discuss them just yet.”
“Compton—”
“No, he’s right,” Morse said. “The Shonkla-raa can’t freeze him and demand he give up state secrets. They can do that with us. The less we know, the better.”
“Exactly,” I said. “Bayta, we’ll take the tender back to Homshil and pick up a regular train.”
“I suppose this Melding’s halfway across the galaxy,” Terese said sourly.
“Not nearly that far,” the Modhri assured her. “They’re in an unspecified system near Sibbrava in the Cimmal Republic. Approximately a ten-day journey from here.”
Terese stared at the old woman. “You already know where the Melding is? I thought they were a big fat secret.”
“I know only the approximate area,” the old woman said. “Not the precise location.”
“The Modhri knows a great deal about the galaxy,” I said. “It’s one of the things that makes him such a useful ally. Bayta, get the tender fired up, and let’s get moving.”
* * *
The last couple of weeks aboard the super-express had seen a slow but steady opening up of Terese’s defenses, at least toward Bayta. That relaxation of tension had faltered a bit during the seven-hour trip to Yandro, but I’d put that down to Terese’s very reasonable annoyance at being hauled out of her comfortable surroundings and loaded aboard a Spider tender.
Now, as we left the hope of a quick return to Earth behind and headed back toward Homshil in that same tender, I discovered her walls had once again gone up.
A logical, rational person would have blamed me. Terese, who was neither, blamed all three of us.
I was used to it. Morse didn’t seem to care very much one way or the other.
Bayta was devastated.
She tried to hide it, of course. But I could tell. She’d worked so hard to get Terese to open up, and to be a friend to her, that she couldn’t help but take the teenager’s rejection personally.
What I wasn’t expecting was that Bayta apparently didn’t blame me for messing all that up.
That worried me. Bayta and I had been through enough that I expected her to trust me. But Terese’s current situation was my fault, at least partially, which should realistically have given rise to at least a little annoyance or frustration on Bayta’s part.
Only it hadn’t. Which strongly implied that she’d figured out what I was up to.
And that didn’t just worry me. It scared the living spit out of me.
Because sure as God made little gray sewer rats there would be Shonkla-raa aboard the train we would be boarding once we reached Homshil. I had no idea how well versed they were in the subtleties of Human psychology, but if they sensed any anomalies in Bayta’s behavior my entire plan could come crashing down around us.
But there was nothing I could do. Not with Terese glowering across the tender where she could listen in on any conversation Bayta and I might have. I would just have to carry on as if nothing was wrong and hope the Shonkla-raa misinterpreted whatever data they managed to collect.
There hadn’t been any way for Bayta to set up our new travel plans from the secret Yandro station. But I’d spent some time with the Quadrail schedule and had concluded we would have less than two hours to wait before the express train I wanted arrived at Homshil.
For once, my timing was dead on. An hour and forty minutes after we stepped off the tender at Homshil we were on our way to Sibbrava.
I’d hoped that our little side trip to Yandro might throw Riijkhan off the scent. No such luck. He hadn’t managed to score a compartment this time, but when I escorted Bayta and Terese to the dining car for our first meal of the trip I spotted him right there in the middle of the first-class coach car.
Fortunately, sitting seemed to be the only thing he wanted to do at the moment. That, and staring unblinkingly at us as we walked past.
Bayta spotted him, too, but limited herself to a single emotionless glance in his direction before turning her eyes away. Terese, equal opportunity grouch that she was, uncorked a defiant glare that was impressive even by her standards.
Morse was waiting for us, having come in on his own from the second-class car just behind the dining car, the closest place Bayta had been able to get him a seat. “Any trouble getting in here?” I asked him as we sat down at his table.
“None,” he assured me. “A first-class ticket gets you into first-class territory even if your seat is in second. What news from your end of the world?”
“Riijkhan’s aboard,” I said. “I didn’t spot any of his original entourage, though. He may have split them off to cover the stations between Homshil and Earth.”
“If he did, he didn’t split all of them,” Morse said, his eyes flicking briefly to his left.
Under cover of pushing Terese’s fork and spoon closer to her, I looked in that direction. Seated with two other Fillies, trying to look inconspicuous, was a familiar face. “Well, well—our old friend Scrawny,” I commented, returning my attention to Morse. “At least with him we don’t have to worry about getting ambushed in the still of the night.”
“Don’t be too sure,” Morse warned. “He could be a genetically enhanced fighter who’s deliberately chosen to look non-threatening.”
“There’s that,” I conceded. “Well, it wasn’t like we weren’t going to keep an eye on him anyway. What exactly does that we consist of, by the way?”
“There are eight Eyes in first, plus another six in second,” Morse said. “Bearing in mind, though, that the latter group would need Spider permission to come into first-class territory if we need them.” He looked at Bayta and raised his eyebrows invitingly.