Judgment at Proteus by Timothy Zahn

it related to the murders aboard the super-express. If there was another player in this game, someone who had in fact tried to get Terese German away from them, they needed to find out the who and the what and the why. Right now, I was the best source of information that they had.
    But I was only valuable as long as they thought such information might actually exist. The minute they were convinced otherwise, Bayta and I would be in serious trouble.
    We had to make sure we were finished with our own investigation and far from Proteus before that happened.
    Predictably, I suppose, Wandek followed us out of the building. “As a small gesture of gratitude for your time,” he said as we headed toward the building Terese and Aronobal had disappeared into a few minutes ago, “allow me to escort you to Ms. German.”
    “That really isn’t necessary,” I told him. “We saw where she went. We can find our own way.”
    “Of course you can,” Wandek said. “But this way you will not need to deal with questions or forms at the reception desk.”
    We had made it halfway there when Doug suddenly stopped, turned his head, and gave a sharp yip. I was starting to look down to see what the trouble was when there was an answering yip from the distance.
    I turned to look. Near the edge of the dome another watchdog was striding along at the side of a Filly, this one not in simple doctor’s garb but dressed in the usual upper-class set of ancient-Mongolian-style layered tunics. The watchdog was peering across toward us, the Filly himself ignoring us completely.
    I was trying to figure out what another criminal would be doing here, especially such a well-dressed one, when Ty gave a yip of his own. Once again, the other watchdog answered.
    And with that, all three animals went back about their original business. “What was that all about?” I asked Wandek.
    “You mean the greetings?” he asked, gesturing down at the watchdogs.
    “Yes, if that’s what those were.”
    “The sounds function as a greeting and identification between msikai-dorosli ,” he explained. “Each burst contains a wide range of ultrasonics unique to that particular animal.”
    “Some kind of jailer-to-jailer code?”
    “That Filiaelian you saw was not a prisoner,” Wandek said, a little stiffly. “Many citizens, even aboard Kuzyatru Station, keep msikai-dorosli as companions.”
    I looked dubiously down at Doug’s non-furry and decidedly non-pettable back. “They’re considered pets ?”
    “They’re considered companions ,” Wandek repeated, leaning on the word a little. “They can be trained to assist their owner with various tasks.”
    “Like what?” I asked. “Making tea? Calling up the morning mail?”
    “They can perform simple tasks such as fetching objects, particularly for those with post-operative weakness,” Wandek said. “They can also be fitted with harnesses for carrying medium-weight items.”
    I looked down at Doug. I hadn’t considered the possibilities of him as a pack animal. “How much weight can they carry?”
    “Why all the questions?” Wandek asked, frowning. “They’re really very simple animals.”
    “I have a very simple curiosity,” I said. “How much weight?”
    “I don’t know,” Wandek said, a little impatiently. Clearly, he had more important things on his mind right now. “If you really wish to know, you can look them up on the computer in your quarters. Everything there is to know about msikai-dorosli can be found there.”
    We reached the building and went inside. Unlike the Shonkla-raa nest, this one was bustling with activity, with doctors in tan striding purposefully along or holding conversations in corners. Other Fillies in the full range of colored outfits manned desks or pushed carts or joined the doctors in their consultations. I spotted a couple more of the enlarged throats that I’d seen back in the other building with our Gang of Ten, but everyone else seemed normal. Or at least, what