“Not later,” he insisted. “Now. What did you do?”
“What did you do?” I countered. “That stunt could have gotten Bayta killed.”
“And so you allow the weapon to work?” he shot back. “How does that benefit either of us?”
“What makes you think I control the weapon?” I growled, glancing surreptitiously around the car. Fortunately, the rest of the passengers were already gathered in small knots, talking quietly but nervously among themselves, with little attention to spare for us. Kennrick’s passage must have made quite an impression.
“Do not lie,” the Modhri bit out. “I know the weapon must be activated. There was no Spider present. The agent herself would not have done so. That leaves only you.”
“And since when do I have—?” I broke off, a jolt of understanding abruptly hitting me. “No, you’re wrong,” I said. “Bayta did activate it.”
“Why would she foil my attempt to rescue her?”
“Because your attempt didn’t have a chance,” I told him. “And because she was thinking ahead.”
“To what?”
“To the next real chance we have, whenever that is,” I said, smiling tightly. “Don’t you get it? Kennrick now thinks he has a functional weapon.”
The other’s face worked as he thought it through. Then, slowly, the anger faded from his eyes. “Indeed,” the Modhri murmured. “So the next time he thinks to use the weapon, it will fail?”
“Or at least the next time he tries to use it when Bayta judges we have a real chance of success,” I said. “That doesn’t mean one of us won’t get zapped if we try something stupid again.”
“Understood,” the Modhri said. “What’s our next move?”
“I’m going to go talk to him,” I said. “Try to find out what he wants, how he expects to get it, and hopefully find a chink in his armor that we can exploit.”
“Dangerous,” the Modhri rumbled. “But necessary. What do you wish me to do in your absence?”
“For the moment, just hang back and let me work,” I said. “If the kwi was still on its lowest unconsciousness setting, your Jurian walker should recover in an hour or two.” I leveled a finger at him. “But I mean that about letting me work. We will nail him, but we’ll do it my way. Understand?”
“I’ll await your instructions,” the Modhri promised reluctantly. “Good hunting to you.”
“Thanks.” I nodded. “In the meantime, if you really want something to do, you could help soothe your fellow passengers. You might also start getting them mentally prepared for some changes in their traveling conditions. We’re going to evacuate the rest of that car’s compartments, which will mean an influx of displaced travelers settling down in here and the other coach cars.”
“I can do that.” The Tra’ho’s eyes shifted to the front of the car. “What is this?”
I turned to look. Maneuvering his way awkwardly through the vestibule door was a pale, frail-looking Nemut in a Shorshic vectored-thrust-powered support chair. His truncated-cone-shaped mouth had a slight distortion in it, and one of his angled shoulder muscles seemed frozen in a permanent off-center hunch. I’d seen him a few times since we left Homshil, mostly eating solitary meals in the dining car. “Trouble?” I asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” the Modhri said. “His name is Minnario, journeying to a Filiaelian clinic in hopes of finding a genetic cure for his congenital difficulties. But I’ve never seen him leave his compartment except for meals, which he always takes alone.”
Something pricked at the back of my neck. “Do you know which compartment he’s got?” I asked.
“No,” the Modhri said, his oathling topcut wobbling back and forth as the Tra’ho shook his head. “None of the conversations I’ve overheard has mentioned that.”
Minnario finished getting through the door and started down the center of the car, his head turning slowly back and forth as he studied the passengers. His eyes passed me, then paused and came back. His fingers shifted on the chair’s control box, and he altered course in our direction.
“Wait here,” I told the Modhri, and moved ahead to intercept. “Are you looking for me?” I asked as we neared each other.
Minnario looked down at a plate that was fastened to the chair’s control box by a slender stem. [Are you the Human who chases the other Humans?] he croaked in slightly lisping Nemuspee as he brought the chair to a halt.
“I am,” I confirmed. “You have a message for me?”
There was another pause as he again studied the plate. I took a final couple of steps toward him and saw that it was running him a transcript of what I’d just said. Apparently, deafness was another of his congenital defects. [I was told to give you this,] he croaked. Reaching to a pouch in his lap, he carefully extracted a Quadrail ticket. [The key to my compartment.]
“Let me guess,” I said grimly. “Your compartment connects to the male Human’s?”
[I don’t know where the male Human goes,] he said. [I was asked to give you my key, and told I could move into this one.] He held up another ticket, this one glittering with the diamond-dust edges of a first-class, unlimited-use pass. Bayta’s ticket. [Is that all right?] he croaked. [Should I remain here instead?]
“No, that’s all right,” I said, taking his ticket from him. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I may ask to come in later to collect some of the female’s personal effects.”
[Certainly,] he said when the transcript had finished scrolling across the plate. [Is there trouble? The female seemed frightened.]
“There is, but it doesn’t concern you,” I assured him. “Thank you for this.” Stepping past him, I continued forward.
The corridor of the rear compartment car was empty. I made my way through it, then entered the equally deserted corridor of the middle car. I located Minnario’s compartment and used his ticket to open the door. “Hello?” I called carefully.
“There you are,” Kennrick’s muffled voice came back. “Don’t just stand there—come on in.”
I stepped into the compartment, letting the door slide shut behind me. The room was a typical Quadrail compartment, to which strategically placed grips and bars had been added to assist Minnario with his physical challenges. At the front of the room, the dividing wall between compartments had been opened about ten centimeters and a soft light was showing through. “Okay, I’m in,” I called.
“Come over to the divider and take a look,” Kennrick’s voice came through the gap. “But carefully, please. Very carefully.”
I crossed the compartment, stepping past the curve couch frozen midway into its collapse into the divider. I reached the opening and eased an eye around the edge.
Kennrick was all the way across the room, sitting cross-legged on the bed and turning the kwi thoughtfully over in his hands. Between him and me, sitting with unnatural stillness in the computer desk chair, was Bayta, a pair of wire loops wrapped around her neck.
“Let me explain the situation,” Kennrick said. “You’ll note the usual control on the wall beside you that will open the divider the rest of the way. I’d strongly advise you not to bump it.”
“Because if I do, one of those wire loops will strangle her?” I suggested.
“It might,” Kennrick said. “These are actually thinner wires than the garrote I pulled on you a few minutes ago, so it’s possible the loop would slice her head clean off instead of just strangling her. Me, I’m not all that anxious to find out for sure. But if you’re curious, be my guest.”
“No, that’s all right,” I said. “I suppose the other loop is fastened to the corridor door?”
“You suppose correctly,” he said. “Rather clever, if I do say so myself.”
“Oh, it’s brilliant,” I assured him. I’d wondered how he thought he would be able to hold out another two and a half weeks without falling asleep, and thus leaving himself open to attack. With this setup, he could sleep until noon every day without worrying about anyone charging in on him. “Your boss will be proud.”