Free Judgment at Proteus by Timothy Zahn Page A

our own. Why don’t you call Minnario, clue him in on what’s happening, and get him to the hearing? Then he and Chinzro Hchchu can hash out together whether or not Bayta can watch the proceedings.”
    “That seems reasonable,” Emikai said, a note of relief in his voice as he pulled out his comm. Clearly, the rapid pace of Hchchu’s brand of justice wasn’t sitting well with him, either.
    {The Protocols don’t require this,} Jumpsuit insisted.
    {Neither do they forbid it,} Emikai countered. He punched in a number and lifted the comm to his ear. {This is Logra Emikai,} he said. {I wish to speak with Attorney Minnario chu-DeHak.}
    {This is wasted time,} Jumpsuit muttered.
    I watched him out of the corner of my eye, hoping I wouldn’t have to use any of the combat techniques Emikai had taught me during our sparring sessions. At five-to-one odds, I wasn’t likely to last very long.
    But I sure as hell wasn’t going to let them take me away and drop me into some dark hole somewhere where Bayta wouldn’t even know where to start looking for me. Not without a fight.
    {Understood,} Emikai said.
    I looked back at him. The grimness in his voice was mirrored in his face. “What’s the matter?” I asked.
    “ Chinzro Hchchu has been attempting to contact Attorney Minnario for nearly half an hour,” Emikai said. “There is no answer on his comm. Nor have any patrollers or operational personnel seen him during that time.
    “Your attorney, Mr. Compton, has vanished.”

 
    FOUR
    The nearest security nexus was ten floors directly above the medical dome. We arrived to find a full-scale search operation already in progress.
    {There continues to be no response from his comm,} a jumpsuited patroller standing by the door reported as Emikai escorted Bayta and me into the room and over to a bank of monitors that stretched all the way up one wall and angled onto part of the ceiling.
    {Keep trying,} Emikai ordered. “He is still not answering his comm,” he translated for my benefit.
    I nodded, looking over the monitors. About half the screens were cycling through visual images of important offices or key intersections, but most of the displays seemed to be readouts of environmental, power, or equipment usage. I spotted two different views of our Alpine medical dome go by in the rotation, one apparently from just above each of the two corridors leading into it. “Do you keep records of any of these images?” I asked.
    “For one hour only,” Emikai said. “Under the Slisst Protocols, anything more is considered a violation of privacy.”
    “That’s unfortunate,” I murmured. But probably very convenient for the Shonkla-raa as they scurried around on whatever nefarious schemes they were up to aboard the station. An excellent reason all by itself for Proteus’s directors to have adopted the Protocols. “I guess we’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way, then,” I continued. “We know Minnario was in the security station with me when our torchferry docked. We start by talking to everyone who was also there at that time, from Chinzro Hchchu on down, and try to track his movements.”
    “That is already being done,” Emikai said, pointing to a display filled with Fili characters. “That is a list of those who have been spoken to, plus summaries of their testimonies to the patrollers. But it has already been over four hours since our arrival, and the trail has started to go dry. Many of the relevant personnel have dispersed to evening meals and quarters.”
    “Unless the Human expert wishes to offer a better method?” a sarcastic voice suggested from behind me.
    I turned. It was Usantra Wandek, working his way toward us through the crowd of Jumpsuits. His blaze was showing the same odd mottling I’d seen during our earlier conversation down in the medical dome. “Greetings, Usantra Wandek,” I said, nodding to him. “Did someone call for medical assistance?”
    “The Nemut has a long list of medical