"Relax," I soothed her. "For the moment, we all have the same goal. Namely, to get me out of here and onto the Quadrail."
"I do not control station security, you see," the Modhri explained to her. "If they were allowed to take him, they would impound his effects. A routine inquiry would show the Lynx had been stolen, and it would be returned to Earth."
"Putting him back at square one," I said. "Even worse, the guards could start shooting." I drummed my fingers on my carrybag. "That would pretty well end the hunt for good." I cocked an eyebrow at the oathling. "You really should have infiltrated the local law enforcement establishment better, you know."
The oathling gave a strange catlike hiss. "Indeed," he conceded. "But there are other needs, and more urgent priorities. And this is such a small, useless world."
"And playing the odds usually does work," I agreed. "Still, one never knows where the cards are going to be dealt, does one?"
"True," the Modhri said. "Yet at the end of each hand the cards are always gathered and dealt anew."
I grimaced. "True."
"So they're letting us go?" Penny asked, grabbing on to the part of this she could understand.
"Only temporarily," I said. "Like I said, he's playing the odds. In this case, he's hoping that on the Quadrail he'll have a better chance of stealing the Lynx from us."
I saw Penny's throat muscles tighten. "Maybe it would be better if we did turn ourselves in."
"Maybe better for you," I said. "Unfortunately, after that little drama it would hardly be better for me. Besides, the Quadrail has one big advantage over this place."
"What's that?"
I hefted Fayr's gun. "No weapons."
The oathling looked sideways at me, an odd expression on his face. I was still wondering what that meant when it abruptly changed again. [I'm sorry,] he said, his voice also returning to normal as he shifted back to Seejlis. [My thoughts wandered. Were you speaking to me?]
"Just rambling," I said. So a wandering mind was how the oathling had chosen to explain away this latest blank spot in his memory. A puppet on golden chains, and he didn't even know it.
Damn the Modhri, anyway.
The debarkation lounge the oathling led us to was as deserted as everywhere else we'd been since leaving the customs area. [There is your escape,] he said, pointing to the invitingly open hatchway.
Way too invitingly, to my mind. "You first," I said, gesturing with my gun. "Don't get too far ahead of me."
I'd expected the shuttle to be the standard Tra'hok passenger model, with ten rows of seats offering lots of cover to a determined assault team. To my surprise, it was instead a cargo version of the same ship, a single empty chamber lined with straps and anchor rings with literally nowhere for anyone to hide. "Nice," I commented as Penny and I stepped cautiously inside. "Okay, then. Let's get this show—"
Without warning, the oathling turned and lunged.
Reflexively, I twisted away, swinging the barrel of my gun toward the side of his head.
But he wasn't going for me. Ducking under my wild blow, he grabbed Penny's upper arms and shoved her hard back through the hatchway. Even as I dropped my carrybag and dived after her, her gasp of surprise and pain was swallowed up by the slam of metal on metal as the hatch slammed closed.
Cursing, I switched direction toward the hatch control. But again I was too late. With a multiple popping of released clamps, we were away from the station and into the vacuum of space.
I turned back to the oathling, leveling my gun squarely between his eyes. "Go ahead," the Modhri voice said. "Shoot, if it will appease your anger and shame." He gave me an almost human smile. "I can afford to lose this one."
With a supreme effort, I eased my forefinger back off the trigger. A puppet who doesn't even know it. "Clever," I bit out. "Passenger shuttle doors can't legally close that fast except in a decompression emergency. Hence, the cargo version."
"I thought it would also soothe any fears of a trap," he said, gesturing around the empty compartment. "But don't be concerned. The Human female is in no danger."
"Provided?"
His eyes flicked to my carrybag. "Provided you now deliver to me what you promised."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I countered, thinking furiously. This whole scheme depended on the Modhri thinking he knew where the Lynx was. Briefly, my thoughts flicked to Stafford, wondering if he'd made it across to the Tube yet or whether he was still stuck in one of the waiting rooms. "Okay, you got me," I told the Modhri. "You can have the Lynx." I cocked my head as if considering my options. "But not here."
His ears twitched in a way I'd never seen a Tra'ho's ears move before. "Where, then?"
"The Terra Quadrail Station," I told him. "My friends in the transfer station will be allowed to leave, and then we'll all travel together back to Human space. You can message ahead and have a walker waiting."
For a long moment he gazed at me. "Very well," he said at last. "I can wait a little longer. But only a little longer," he added, his voice deepening. "And don't try anything clever. Remember, I'll be watching you the entire way."
"Yes," I murmured. "I'll bet you will."
A pair of drone Spiders were waiting for me when the shuttle's upper hatch opened, one of them plucking the gun from my hand without comment and tucking it in close beneath his silvery sphere as he and his companion strode off toward the stationmaster's office. I wasn't sure what happened to confiscated items; hopefully, Bayta could persuade them to put the weapon in a lockbox to be returned to Fayr later.
His job of living shield completed, the oathling stayed aboard the shuttle for transport back to the transfer station. There was no need for him to stay; the Modhran colony inside him had already linked up with whatever mind segment of travelers happened to be in the Tube at the moment, transferring all the necessary information about me, the Lynx, and the exchange agreement.
Nor was there any need for any of them to change their own travel plans in order to shadow me. When my train pulled in, the walkers aboard—be there one or twenty—would similarly be clued in on the situation. Someone would also probably send a message ahead on one of the Spiders' message cylinders, alerting Modhri mind segments down the line. Once the Modhri was alerted to something, you didn't have a hope of outflanking him.
Not unless you were clever.
Stafford had indeed made it across ahead of me. As per our arrangement, he was sitting in one of the clinger-plant-covered gazebos near the stationmaster's office, pretending to be engrossed in his reader. I took a seat fifty meters behind him, out of his line of sight, and settled in to wait for the others.
And to figure out what exactly I was going to say to them.
Fayr arrived on the eighth shuttle after mine, his plastic substitute status guns bouncing prominently beneath his arms. He was wearing a scowl of wounded dignity, probably for the benefit of any of his fellow passengers who might have witnessed my performance. He consulted the schedule, carefully avoiding looking in my direction, and marched off toward the platform where the next Terra-bound train was scheduled to depart.
Bayta and Morse arrived two shuttles later, with their own luggage plus Penny's abandoned carrybags in tow. They had moved out of the main traffic patterns and were looking around when I reached them.
"There you are," Morse growled. "What the bloody hell was that in aid of?"
"It's called a diversion," I explained. "Any problems back there after I left?"
"Only the expected ones," he said, frowning slightly at me. "What kind of diversion?"
"Where's Ms. Auslander?" Bayta asked.
"Not here," I admitted. "I'm afraid I got finessed at the last moment."
"Well, that's clever," Morse said heavily. "First you lose Stafford, and now you lose Ms. Auslander, too?"