"She could have been mistaken."
"With a whole trainful of Spiders as her information network?" I shook my head. "No, it was simply that she'd asked the wrong question. If you're in a band, and someone sees the trumpet player carrying a flute case, that person might ask you who the flutist is. You, knowing full well the band doesn't have a flutist, would tell the questioner he was nuts. If Bayta had asked if there was a non-standard Spider aboard, they might have told her there was, and we would have figured it out sooner."
"Yes," he murmured. "And indeed, you describe a perfect example of the problem we seek so urgently to overcome. Would a Human have simply answered the question he was asked without also volunteering the bit of information that he hadn't been asked?"
"Actually, some Humans probably would," I told him. "We call them bureaucrats and mid-level managers."
"But the best Humans would not."
"Probably not," I conceded.
His eye-ridge tufts twitched. "Best of fortune to you, Frank Compton."
Apparently, the interview was over. But that was all right. I'd said everything I'd come here to say. "And to you, Elder of the Chahwyn," I replied.
The temporary Quadrail stop was nothing to look at, consisting of a couple of cargo-sized hatches, a single-story storage building, and a loop of track where a tender or small train could pull off the main track for loading and unloading. A passenger staring out his window at the long light-years of Tube could blink at the wrong moment and miss it completely.
Even at that, it had probably cost around a quarter trillion dollars. Building stops along the Tube didn't come cheap. I hoped the Cimmaheem would get more out of their new colony than Earth had out of hers.
There were two figures waiting for us by a corner of the supply building as Bayta and I escorted Rebekah from the tender: a Pirk and a thirtyish Human female. They started walking toward us as we came into sight. "Beheoro and Karyn," Rebekah identified them quietly. "Beheoro was Drorcro's sister."
The Pirk who'd sacrificed himself to protect us from the two walkers on the New Tigris transfer station. Whether we'd actually wanted that protection or not. "Do they know about him?" I asked.
Rebekah nodded. "I've just told them."
"Oh," I said. "Right."
The five of us met in the middle. "Greetings to you, Frank Compton and Bayta," Karyn said, nodding gravely. "We thank you for what you've done for Rebekah." Her eyes flicked over my shoulder. "And for our brother."
I looked back to see the Spiders carrying out the lockboxes full of Melding coral. "We were glad to help," I said, turning back again. "I'm sorry we couldn't do more." I looked at Beheoro. "Especially for those who were lost."
"Drorcro is not truly lost," the Pirk said quietly. "While the Melding lives, so will he."
"Of course," I said lamely. That old funeral eulogy platitude, that the deceased would continue to live on in the hearts of those left behind, had always rather irritated me. But in this case, I had the discomfiting feeling that it might actually be true. "Well, Rebekah, I guess this is it. Take care of—"
The rest of my stock cliché farewell vanished in a puff of air as she threw herself against me in a startlingly strong bear hug. "Thank you," she murmured into my chest. "Thank you."
With only a slight hesitation, I put my arms around her. "You're welcome," I murmured back.
We held the hug another few seconds. Then, disentangling herself from me, she turned and gave Bayta a hug of similar or possibly even greater vigor and earnestness. A few murmured words passed between them, but I never found out what they said to each other.
And with that, it was finally over. For now.
"Come on," I told Bayta as we watched the four of them and the coral-laden Spiders heading for the hatch and the transport waiting outside. "Time to go."
TWENTY-TWO :
After the carnage aboard our last Quadrail, I wasn't looking forward to climbing onto a normal first-class car for the trip back to Earth. Fortunately, the Spiders seemed to understand, and instead gave us a lift back in the tender.
This time around, I made sure to stay put at our end of the train. If Bayta ever realized there was a Chahwyn at the other end, she never mentioned it.
A brief message reached us via Spider telepathy as we slowed down for one of the stations. Via Bayta and our Spiders, I used the same technique to send back a reply as we passed through the next station in line.
Thus it was that we reached Terra Station to find Bruce McMicking waiting for us at my favorite Quadrail restaurant.
"Welcome home," he greeted us, half standing in old-world courtesy as I helped Bayta into her seat. Her wrist was merely sprained, we'd concluded, but it was still a little weak. "I trust your trip went smoothly?"
"As smoothly as could be expected," I told him. "Yours?"
"Spectacularly successful," he said. "I appreciate your help."
"As we appreciate yours," I said. "You didn't happen to peruse the Manhattan criminal court directory while you were waiting here for us, did you?"
"As a matter of fact, I did," he said. "The good news is that you've been cleared of the double murder the Modhri tried to hang you with."
"Really," I said, frowning. "That was quick."
"Straightforward, really," McMicking said. "With the three killings on the New Tigris transfer station—which, timing-wise, you couldn't possibly have been involved with—plus the presence of your stolen Heckler-Koch among the victims, Detective Kylowski realized his case against you wasn't nearly strong enough to continue with. All charges have been dropped, though he got your gun permit suspended for the next year."
"Like I'm going to spend much of the next year in New York," I murmured.
"And your new Hardin Security ID trumps a city permit anyway," he added.
"At least up until the point where Mr. Hardin notices my name on the company roster," I warned. "Which he'll probably go looking for at the very next audit."
"But Mr. McMicking just said you've been cleared," Bayta objected.
"Yes, but I doubt it was before I was declared in violation of my terms of bail," I told her. "The city bureaucrats would have made sure to confiscate that half million before the charges got dropped."
"And they did," McMicking confirmed. "But not to worry. The half million is back in my Security Department account, all safe and sound and no one the wiser."
I frowned at him "What did you do, rob a bank?"
"In a way," he said. "Remember why I was on New Tigris in the first place?"
"To arrange for the disappearance of Veldrick's illegal coral."
"The disappearance and subsequent sale," McMicking corrected. "Did you also forget that when I took off in the Filiaelians' rented torchyacht I had Veldrick's coral plus the extra stash the Fillies had brought to New Tigris with them?"
I blinked. With everything else that had happened, I had indeed completely forgotten about that. "And they had half a million dollars' worth?"
"Half a million, plus about two million more," he said with a tight smile. "After deducting a few extra expenditures I thought it best not to list on my expense account, I put the rest in a very discreet Manhattan bank."
"Nice little nest egg," I commented.
"Nice little war chest," he corrected, his smile going grim. "As soon as we get to New York I'll take you and Bayta in and we'll get your names on the account along with mine."
"I appreciate that," I said. "But we're not heading to Earth. Not just yet."
He studied my face. "The Fillies?"
I nodded. "After their performance on New Tigris, I think Bayta and I should take a trip to that end of the galaxy and see what exactly the Modhri's got going over there."
"That's a whole lot of real estate to poke around in," McMicking warned. "A whole lot of distance away, too."