“You also didn’t say no.”
I sighed. How many times was I going to have to go through this? “Look, Morse. If you get taken by the Shonkla-raa, what’s the first question they’re going to ask you?”
“I thought you weren’t even sure that they could take control of Human Eyes.”
“Indulge me,” I said. “Assuming they can, what’s their first question going to be?”
“Where can I get one of those lovely English accents?” he suggested sarcastically.
“That’s question two,” I said. “Question one will be ‘What’s Compton’s plan?’ Am I wrong?”
His lip twitched. “No.”
“And since you would then have to tell him, it follows that it’s best if you don’t know my plan,” I said. “Is this starting to sink in?”
He glared at me another few seconds before pulling his face back to a civilized distance. “So I gather this delay is part and parcel of your plan?”
“This delay is because I’m tired and hungry,” I said, emphasizing each word.
“Sure.” He grimaced, the last remnants of his glare fading away into a sort of unhappy watchfulness. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I always know what I’m doing,” I told him.
“Are you always right?”
“Of course,” I said. “Aren’t you?”
He grimaced. “Fine. Go enjoy your rest. I’ll go see if I can help get the coral packed for transfer.”
He turned and headed back toward the hangar. Bayta and the girls had disappeared, but as I continued on down the corridor I spotted Bayta waiting for me outside one of the doors. “This our Fortress of Solitude?” I asked as I walked up to her.
“Our what? Oh—right.” She touched the control to open the door. “Yes, this is where Rebekah said we could rest. She and Terese are another three doors down, if you wanted to check on them first.”
“They’ll be fine,” I said, gesturing her into our room.
The room was bigger than I’d expected, with a single large bed, a washstand with running water, and a couple of comfortable-looking chairs. From the marks on the floor, I guessed it had been an analysis room, with most of the current empty space originally filled by lab tables and equipment racks. “There’s a food locker over there with ration bars, in case you wanted something to eat before they get a proper meal prepared,” Bayta said as the door closed behind us.
“No, thanks,” I said, crossing to the bed and lying down. “I mostly just wanted some breathing space.”
“And to give Rebekah time to talk to Terese?” Bayta asked.
I nodded. “Terese desperately needs someone new to talk to. I was hoping the two of them might click.”
“But that’s not the real reason for the delay, is it?” Bayta said, coming over and standing beside the bed.
I shook my head. “No.”
Morse had pressed me for more. But Bayta wasn’t Morse. “Okay,” she said. For another moment she stood looking at me. Then, to my mild surprise, she lay down on the other side of the bed.
And to my even greater surprise she proceeded to slide up beside me.
Close beside me. Way closer than she needed to.
“It’s not going to work, you know,” she said quietly. “The Melding may be able to adjust the Modhri within Agent Morse, but they can’t possibly have enough coral to do the same to the segment-prime.”
“I know,” I said. “Fortunately, we have another source of Melding coral.”
She lifted her head and frowned at me. “What do you mean?”
“At least, I’m pretty sure we do,” I said. Sliding over the last few centimeters that separated us, I slid my arm behind her raised head. “How much do you know about how the Melding came to be?”
She continued frowning at me, her head raised, and for a few awkward seconds I wondered if she was going to respond to my smooth move by simply not lying back down. But then her expression changed, and she lowered her head back to the pillow and across my arm.
And then, to my surprise, she rolled up onto her side toward me, resting her body right up against mine. “It still won’t work,” she murmured, her breath warm on my cheek.
My first flash reaction to this unexpected intimacy evaporated into the cold reality of her words. “Sure it will,” I said, crooking my arm at the elbow and bringing my hand up to rest on her shoulder. “We’re already well on our way.”
I felt her give a small shake of her head. “They won’t give you the coral,” she said. “Not without safeguards.”
I pursed my lips. So she did know that it was the Chahwyn who had bioengineered the Melding coral in the first place. Or if she hadn’t known she’d deduced it, just as I had. “They don’t have any choice,” I said firmly. “Not if they want the Modhri to be a reliable ally.”
“They won’t believe he can be that ally,” she said. “They’ll be afraid he’ll overwhelm the Melding, no matter how much coral they deliver. They’ll instead want to keep producing the coral until they’re sure they have enough to make it work. Only they never will.”
I grimaced. Unfortunately, she had a point. No matter how fast the Chahwyn created their Melding coral, the original Modhran coral would also be reproducing, sitting there in its cold-water habitat on Yandro. The Chahwyn would be racing a moving goal line, without ever knowing exactly where that goal line was. “The situation is different now,” I reminded her. “The Modhri is willing to change. In fact, if Morse is any indication, once he sees what the Melding offers, he’ll be downright eager to change.”
“They don’t trust him,” Bayta said. “They’ll never trust him. They’ll go with their alternate weapon.”
I felt my stomach tighten. “The defenders aren’t an alternate weapon,” I said. “They’re a self-springing trap.”
“I know,” Bayta said. “But they don’t understand that. And they won’t. Not until it’s too late.”
“Then we’ll have to find a way to explain it to them.”
She gave a wry little snort. “I don’t think your usual tools of persuasion will be of much use this time.”
“Don’t count me out yet,” I warned. “You’d be amazed how many of those tools I have up my sleeve.”
She shook her head again. “I know the Elders. Once they’ve made up their minds, they won’t change. They’re probably already working on creating new and better defenders to send against the Shonkla-raa.”
She breathed out a long, weary sigh. “And whoever wins that battle, freedom will disappear from the galaxy.”
“Well, at least the defenders aren’t lusting after power, the way the Shonkla-raa are,” I said, searching for something positive to say. “I suppose that’s something.”
“The Shonkla-raa want power,” she said. “The defenders will calmly and unemotionally take it whether they want it or not. I don’t see a lot of difference.”
I pursed my lips. “There is an alternative,” I reminded her. “The one you suggested aboard our first super-express. You told me we could destroy the Thread, disintegrate the Tube, and end the whole thing.”
“Yes, we could probably do that,” she said, a deep sadness in her voice. “Only it wouldn’t help. The Shonkla-raa, or the defenders, would still control the people they happened to be among when the Quadrail collapsed.”
Which was pretty much the same conclusion I’d come to the first time she’d offered this approach. “You’re right, that doesn’t really gain us anything,” I agreed. “In fact, it might make things worse. If someone ever figured out a way to beat back the Shonkla-raa, without the Thread and Quadrail there wouldn’t be any way for them to share that information with the rest of the galaxy.”
For a long minute we just lay quietly, our bodies still pressed close together. Gently, I stroked her shoulder; hesitantly, almost unwillingly, she lifted her arm and laid it across my chest. “Tell me something,” I said at last. “In any of your discussions with Terese, have you ever found out who exactly she is?”