to clear their luggage through Customs again,” I pointed out. “That’ll take time, and we’ll be on our way to the Tube long before then.”
“Even with another walker in charge of giving them that clearance?”
So she’d noticed that, too. I’d expected she would. “That won’t help him any,” I said. “Human Customs routines are largely computerized, with no way for a mere clerk to bypass the routine and speed up the process. In theory, he could call in his supervisor for an override, but that would probably take more time than he’s got.”
“Couldn’t they leave their bags here, like we did?”
“Even the Modhri would have a hard time coming up with a rationalization for that one,” I said. “And I doubt he wants to risk taking over the hosts. Not six of them at once, not for the length of time this would take. If they compared notes afterward and discovered simultaneous blackouts, they might finally start to wonder.”
I smiled tightly. “Besides, lurking in the back of his ethereal little mind is probably the thought that I might be goading him into precisely that move. We could be pretending to head back to the Tube, then planning to double back and make off with their luggage when they hurry after us.”
She gave me a puzzled frown. “What in space would we want with their luggage?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “But if the Modhri has learned anything, it’s not to underestimate how convoluted our plans can get.”
“How convoluted your plans can get.” “Whatever.”
She glanced back over her shoulder. “He might still think it’s a risk worth taking.”
“What for?” I countered. “So we’re dumping this group. So what? We’re probably about to get back on the Quadrail, and he’s got eyes all over the Quadrail. He’ll just have the Customs agent or one of the passengers send messages both directions down the line to alert other mind segments, and figure he’ll pick up our trail again before we get too far.”
“Excuse me?” a voice called from behind us.
I set my teeth together and turned around. The Modhri might at least have had the common decency to make his move before I’d gone so firmly on record with my prediction that he wouldn’t. “Yes?” I asked, turning around.
It was one of my rotund fellow Humans, the one I’d dubbed Tweedledum. “My name’s Braithewick,” he said, puffing a bit as he came up to us. His luggage, I noted, was nowhere to be seen. Left behind, as I’d just explained to Bayta wouldn’t happen. “I’m an associate negotiations researcher at the UN.”
A glorified computer clerk, in other words. “And?” I prompted.
He seemed a bit surprised by my unenthusiastic response. “I work at the UN,” he repeated. “I wanted to offer my service in your negotiations with the stationmaster.”
“What negotiations?” I said. “I’m going to make him find my lockbox and send it over here, and that’ll be that.”
He chuckled. “You amateurs,” he said with a typical mid-level bureaucratic air of self-importance. “You always think it’s going to be that easy.”
“Why shouldn’t it be?” I asked. “Unless you know something I don’t.”
He smiled cherubically… and suddenly the smile faded, and the flabby skin of his cheeks and throat seemed to sag. “Don’t play games, Compton,” he said, his voice subtly changed.
“Hello, Modhri,” I said, the skin at the back of my neck tingling unpleasantly. No matter how many times I watched a Modhran mind segment take over one of its hosts, it still creeped me out. “If you’re still looking for the Lynx, you’re out of luck. I haven’t got it.”
“You know what I seek,” the Modhri said. “I offer you a bargain: step back, and allow me to deal with it.”
“Is that a bargain, or a threat?” I asked. “What exactly is it you’re looking for?”
“You know what I seek,” he said again. “The Abomination.”
“Ah—that,” I said, nodding sagely
“Even with another walker in charge of giving them that clearance?”
So she’d noticed that, too. I’d expected she would. “That won’t help him any,” I said. “Human Customs routines are largely computerized, with no way for a mere clerk to bypass the routine and speed up the process. In theory, he could call in his supervisor for an override, but that would probably take more time than he’s got.”
“Couldn’t they leave their bags here, like we did?”
“Even the Modhri would have a hard time coming up with a rationalization for that one,” I said. “And I doubt he wants to risk taking over the hosts. Not six of them at once, not for the length of time this would take. If they compared notes afterward and discovered simultaneous blackouts, they might finally start to wonder.”
I smiled tightly. “Besides, lurking in the back of his ethereal little mind is probably the thought that I might be goading him into precisely that move. We could be pretending to head back to the Tube, then planning to double back and make off with their luggage when they hurry after us.”
She gave me a puzzled frown. “What in space would we want with their luggage?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “But if the Modhri has learned anything, it’s not to underestimate how convoluted our plans can get.”
“How convoluted your plans can get.” “Whatever.”
She glanced back over her shoulder. “He might still think it’s a risk worth taking.”
“What for?” I countered. “So we’re dumping this group. So what? We’re probably about to get back on the Quadrail, and he’s got eyes all over the Quadrail. He’ll just have the Customs agent or one of the passengers send messages both directions down the line to alert other mind segments, and figure he’ll pick up our trail again before we get too far.”
“Excuse me?” a voice called from behind us.
I set my teeth together and turned around. The Modhri might at least have had the common decency to make his move before I’d gone so firmly on record with my prediction that he wouldn’t. “Yes?” I asked, turning around.
It was one of my rotund fellow Humans, the one I’d dubbed Tweedledum. “My name’s Braithewick,” he said, puffing a bit as he came up to us. His luggage, I noted, was nowhere to be seen. Left behind, as I’d just explained to Bayta wouldn’t happen. “I’m an associate negotiations researcher at the UN.”
A glorified computer clerk, in other words. “And?” I prompted.
He seemed a bit surprised by my unenthusiastic response. “I work at the UN,” he repeated. “I wanted to offer my service in your negotiations with the stationmaster.”
“What negotiations?” I said. “I’m going to make him find my lockbox and send it over here, and that’ll be that.”
He chuckled. “You amateurs,” he said with a typical mid-level bureaucratic air of self-importance. “You always think it’s going to be that easy.”
“Why shouldn’t it be?” I asked. “Unless you know something I don’t.”
He smiled cherubically… and suddenly the smile faded, and the flabby skin of his cheeks and throat seemed to sag. “Don’t play games, Compton,” he said, his voice subtly changed.
“Hello, Modhri,” I said, the skin at the back of my neck tingling unpleasantly. No matter how many times I watched a Modhran mind segment take over one of its hosts, it still creeped me out. “If you’re still looking for the Lynx, you’re out of luck. I haven’t got it.”
“You know what I seek,” the Modhri said. “I offer you a bargain: step back, and allow me to deal with it.”
“Is that a bargain, or a threat?” I asked. “What exactly is it you’re looking for?”
“You know what I seek,” he said again. “The Abomination.”
“Ah—that,” I said, nodding sagely
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