"No kidding," I said. "Just stay clear, wave your badge around if necessary, and get the women to the Tube."
The Nemut sealed his last bag and strode off through the doors, and it was Fayr's turn. The customs agent was obviously familiar with Bellidos; even as Fayr stepped forward, he reached down and pulled a pair of Quadrail lockboxes from beneath the table, one for the handguns, the other for the Rontra in its case.
Stepping out of line, I started toward the row of tables, walking with a determined but casual gait that I knew from experience tended to slow people's reactions. For a half-dozen steps no one even seemed to notice me, and for another two they remained frozen out of sheer puzzlement as to what I was doing. By the rime the oathling in the corner recovered from his own paralysis and snapped an order I was nearly there.
And as the customs agent frowned, and the Tra'ho guards started forward, I took a final step to Fayr's side and plucked one of his handguns and a clip from the open lockbox on the table in front of him.
The customs agent gave a startled screech and lunged toward me. But he was too late. Taking half a step back, I jammed the clip into the gun, chambered a round, and aimed the weapon at the oathling and his guards. "Hold it," I called.
The whole room froze, no one speaking, no one twitching, and for that first few seconds possibly no one even breathing. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Fayr shift his weight subtly—"You—Bellido," I growled, gesturing to him with my free hand. "Back away from the guns and you won't get hurt."
Fayr caught the cue. "You have my status gun," he said stiffly.
"Don't worry, it's not personal," I assured him. "Now, back off. You—over there," I added to the guards standing like a set of overwound springs beside the oathling. "Hands on your heads. No need for anyone to be a dead hero."
Silently they complied. I was just reaching over to shut the lockbox with the rest of Fayr's guns when I heard the faint sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. I turned my head, wondering what Morse had in mind.
But it wasn't Morse. "What are you doing?" Penny demanded as she ran toward me, her eyes wide with disbelief. A startled Morse, I saw peripherally, was in pursuit, but a crucial four steps too far back. "You mustn't—"
There was no time to think. No time to do anything but what her action had forced on me. As she came within reach, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her close, shifting my left arm to wrap around her throat. "Play along," I muttered into her ear as she gasped with surprise and perhaps a little pain. "You hear me?"
Whether she heard me or whether sheer disbelief finally succeeded in freezing her muscles, she went rigid. Lifting my gun hand over her shoulder, I peered around the side of her head.
If I hadn't burned my bridges before, I had definitely dynamited them now. The Tra'hok culture might have a strong undercurrent of specism to it, but they drew a strange but solid line at females. Especially their own, but also those of other species. By taking a female hostage, I had just taken a giant step over that line.
The entire crowd knew it. All around me, Tra'hok ears were twitching with anger and injured honor, and I had the feeling that we were one spark away from a full-fledged lynch mob.
I focused on the oathling. He was as outraged as the rest of them, his eyes burning like he was trying to set me on fire through sheer willpower.
But his Tra'hok sensibilities weren't alone behind those eyes. I waited, letting the Modhri mind segment think it through, hoping he would come to the same conclusion I'd already reached.
In the deathly silence, the oathling stepped forward. [What do you do, Human?] he demanded. [What purpose have you?]
"I want to get on the Quadrail and go my way," I told him. "That's all."
[You have committed criminal acts.]
"Only this one," I said. "And if I get to leave and don't hurt anyone, it won't count."
It was a strained and completely implausible line of reasoning, of course. But I wasn't counting on reason to get me out of this.
[Interesting logic you present,] the oathling said dryly, taking another step toward me. [Let us examine your claim. Have you murdered any Tra'ho'seej? Or committed Assault One?]
"No, to both," I said. Fortunately for my presumed part in the sunburst grenade incident, Tra'hok law defined Assault One as an attack causing actual injury. Dazzled eyes didn't count.
[Theft?]
Technically, I hadn't stolen anything that had ever belonged to a Tra'ho. "No."
[Arson?] he continued, still coming toward me. No doubt he believed he was being very brave, approaching an armed and obviously unhinged alien this way. Distantly, I wondered what he would think if he knew his current behavior was coming from an alien mind that would sacrifice him in a second if he thought it would gain him anything.
"No," I said.
[Fraud?] he asked, his eyes glittering a little brighter. "Not against the Tra'hok people," I said.
His ears pricked up at that one. [I'm told you offered a piece of counterfeit art for sale.]
"Where it was bought by a Halka, not a Tra'ho," I pointed out. "Besides, since I never received any money for that sale, it was technically not fraud."
He finished his walk in silence, stopping three meters in front of me. [Then you may leave this place in peace,] he said. [You will go aboard the Quadrail, and you will never again return to any world of the Tra'hok Unity.]
"Understood," I said, and meant it. If we got out of this in one piece, I would willingly and gladly write off this entire region of space.
The oathling drew himself up. [Then go.] he said. [I will serve as your shield and safe-conduct. You may release the female.]
Released to his guards so she could be returned to bargaining-chip status? "The female comes with me," I said firmly. "But you're welcome to tag along if you want."
For a long moment I thought he was going to cancel the deal right there. He looked at Penny, glanced sideways at the crowd, then looked back at me. [Very well,] he said. [A shuttle will be prepared to take you to the Tube.]
"Good," I said. "Lead on."
He started toward the doors behind the customs desks. "Just a second," I said. Keeping my eyes on him and the guards, I reached down and scooped up my larger carrybag, clutching it to my chest like a combination armored vest and medieval shield and leaving the other carrybag to continue rolling along at my side. "Wouldn't want this getting lost along the way," I explained. "Start walking."
The wide corridors were deserted as we headed toward the shuttle docking stations. I wondered uneasily where all the people had gone until we passed the first restaurant and I saw the wide-eyed crowd huddled inside staring out at me. A line of station security was standing as a barrier between them and our three-person parade, their hands on their heads away from their weapons. Someone had made sure to clue them in on the rules.
The same silent mob scene was repeated at every restaurant, bar, waiting room, and shop we passed. My own tension notched up a bit each time, wondering if and when the station personnel were going to make their move.
But to my mild surprise, none of them did. The oathling, under urgent Modhri prodding, had apparently managed to convince, persuade, or threaten the station manager into letting me go without a struggle.
"You take great risks," the oathling murmured as he walked stolidly beside Penny.
I looked at him in surprise. It was the first time he'd spoken English. I hadn't even realized he knew the language.
And then my brain caught up with me, and I belatedly recognized the subtle change in voice and face and body language. "It wasn't that big a risk," I told him. "You can't afford to have a fracas now."
"What means fracas?"
"A disturbance," I explained. "Like the kind of mob scene we left in there."
Penny half turned around, frowning at me. "Frank?" she asked tentatively.
"It's okay," I said. "Turns out he's part of the gang who's after the Lynx."
She twisted her head around toward the oathling, the one eye I could see widening. "He's—?"