"I know the routine," Bayta said. "By the way, Frank …"
I looked at her, seeing the sudden discomfort and embarrassment in her face. "Yes?" I asked.
Her lip twitched. "Nothing," she murmured. "Sorry."
"That's okay," I assured her. "I'm glad we're back in the trenches together, too."
A flicker of surprise crossed her face, followed rapidly by relief and then a second surge of embarrassment. "Right," she said. "Me, too."
"So let's get to it," I said, gesturing her ahead of me like a proper gentleman.
As we headed away from the table toward Platform Seven, out of the corner of my eye I saw our settled-looking Pirk get up off his bench. He fussed for a moment with his headdress, then started off in the same direction we were also going. I didn't want to turn around and check on the two Humans, but I suspected they had joined the parade as well.
Fourteen hours to Yandro, another eleven back to New Tigris, then probably five to eight days to get to New Tigris proper via torchliner. Add in the twenty days since Lorelei had left New Tigris Station, plus the five to eight days up from the planet itself, and by the time we reached her kid sister Rebekah it would be a month or more that the girl had been on her own.
I just hoped she wasn't in any pressing hurry to be rescued.
FOUR :
Sure enough, forty minutes later when our Quadrail pulled into the station, Tweedledee, Tweedledum, and the Pirk were all waiting on our platform.
Though at very different positions along that platform. Bayta and I were at the head of the line, where the first-class compartment car would be stopping. The two Humans were farther back in the group waiting for the second-class cars. The Pirk, in contrast, was all the way at the far end of the line, poised for the last of the third-class cars, the one just in front of the baggage cars.
The incoming Terra Station passengers got off the train, we all got aboard, and a few minutes later we were on our way.
The trip proved surprisingly uneventful. Neither the Tweedles nor the Pirk would have been allowed in first-class territory, of course, not with second- and third-class tickets. But if any or all of them were walkers their colonies would be part of the train's overall Modhran mind segment, and there ought to be at least one walker basking in the luxury of first-class. I half expected to be accosted somewhere along the line by some genteel ultra-rich traveler, probably as Bayta and I were walking back to the dining car.
But there was nothing. A few of the other passengers deigned to glance up as we passed by, but most of them ignored us completely.
Still, that didn't mean the Modhri wasn't aboard, or that he hadn't spotted and identified us. He could easily be playing it coy, waiting to see where we were going before making any moves. Under that scenario, we would probably find a crowd getting off with us at Yandro Station.
This time, I was right. Not only did the two Tweedles join us on the platform, but so did four of our fellow first-class passengers: three Juriani and a Bellido. Yandro was hardly the kind of place to attract that kind of attention, which strongly suggested that all four of the latter had been heading elsewhere when the local Modhran mind segment had changed their plans for them. Idly, I wondered what kind of pretzel logic his unsuspecting hosts would use to rationalize this one.
To my mild surprise, the non-aromatic Pirk didn't join us.
Bayta and I had two hours before we could catch the train heading back again toward New Tigris. With only eight of us getting off, it would have been highly suspicious if she and I had opted to wait at the station while the other six boarded the shuttle and headed across to the transfer station. It might even have induced the Modhri to take charge of his hosts long enough to find out what game I was playing this time.
Fortunately, I had something a little more subtle in mind. Trying to keep an eye on all six of the others as we trooped across to the shuttle hatchway, I ran the numbers and timings through my mind. It should be just about right.
"You must be joking," I said, leveling one of my best Westali glares at the hapless Customs official on the other side of the counter. "You lost my lockbox?"
"I'm sure it's not actually lost," he assured me, trying to sound calm and confident as he punched keys on his terminal. It wasn't a very convincing act. "It could have gotten mixed in with the crates from the last cargo train—"
"I don't want excuses," I cut him off. My act, unlike his, was superb, if I did say so myself. "I want my lockbox. I'm not leaving here without it."
"I understand, Mr. Compton," he assured me, still poking at his keys. "Fortunately, the torchferry for Yandro won't be arriving until tomorrow That should be more than enough time to get this sorted out."
"Really?" I countered. "What if it's still aboard the Quadrail? What if it's even now heading for Kerfsis or Jurskala or who the hell knows where? You still going to get it to me by tomorrow?"
"Sir, as far as I know the Spiders have never lost a piece of luggage," he said, his confident tone beginning to fray at the edges.
"That's not much comfort for the person who gets to be the first blot on their record, is it?" I said icily.
"No, sir, not really," he conceded. "Let me call over to the stationmaster and get the Spiders looking for it over there."
Finally; the cue I'd been waiting for. "Don't bother," I growled. "We'll go talk to him ourselves. Is the shuttle still at the docking station?"
"Yes, sir," the clerk said. "But there aren't any outgoing passengers right now."
"It can make a special trip," I said. "You owe me. Where can we leave our luggage?"
"You can't go back to the Tube," the clerk said.
"Why not?" I asked.
For a second he fumbled, the mark of a man who had just said something that surprised even him and was searching madly for the reason why he'd said it. "Well, you're here," he said at last. "I mean here, on this side of the station. You've already passed through Customs."
"So we'll pass through again," I said. "You don't look all that busy."
"Well, no, sir, but that's not the point. It's just …" He trailed off, still looking confused.
No doubt he was, and I could almost sympathize. Clearly, the man was a walker, a leftover from the days when the Modhri had actually cared about what happened in Yandro system. Just as clearly, the mind segment currently consisting of the polyp colonies in him and our fellow travelers didn't want me out of his collective sight.
Unfortunately for him, there wasn't any official reason the official could point to forbidding me to go back to the Tube. And even the Modhri could only push his powers of rationalization so far. He could take over the man's body, of course, but I didn't think he was ready to go quite that far. "So where can we leave our luggage?" I asked again.
The clerk's lip's compressed. "You can leave it here behind the counter," he said, his face still working with the strange internal conflict going on inside him. "There's no secure holding area this side of Customs."
"This'll do fine," I said. Shutting off my leash control, I picked up my bags and heaved them around the end of the counter, stacking them as far to the back as the narrow space allowed. "Give me your bags, Bayta."
Silently, she handed me her bags, and I added them to the pile. "Now you just need to check us back through," I told the clerk.
"Yes, sir." Shutting down his terminal, he came out from behind the counter and crossed to the Customs counter five meters away. "I'll need to see your IDs again."
We showed him our IDs and allowed his body scanner to do its work. "And we'll want a double room when we get back," I added as he reluctantly waved us through. "And sleeping rooms on the torchferry, of course."