Wherein lay the problem. There would be a Modhran mind segment on our train—that was pretty much guaranteed. And once Bayta and I stepped aboard that train there would be nowhere we could go for the next six weeks. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and my Beretta 5mm pistol buried away in a lockbox somewhere underneath the train.

And six weeks was more than enough time for the Modhri. should he be so inclined, to plan and carry out a couple of murders. Such as, say, those of Bayta and me.

The train was nearly to the platform now, and I took a moment to look up and down the line of our fellow passengers. One would expect that a super-express heading toward Filiaelian and Shorshic territory would mostly draw Filiaelians and Shorshians, and indeed those two species comprised nearly half our passenger list. But there were quite a few other species represented, as well: bulldog-faced Halkas, iguana-like Juriani with hawk beaks and clawed fingers, a few pear-shaped Cimmaheem. and even a couple of groups of delicately featured Tra’ho’seej.

More surprisingly, there were quite a few Humans, as well. I spotted at least three groups of four or five each, plus several couples and a healthy scattering of unattached individuals. Either something particularly interesting was about to happen at the far end of the galaxy, or else the Filly and Shorshic tourist bureaus were running some kind of tourism special.

Most of the Humans were down the line to our left in the second- and third-class sections of the platform. But there was at least one other besides Bayta and me waiting here for the first-class cars. He was middle-aged, with thinning salt-and-pepper hair, standing with his back to us as he conferred quietly with a group or four Fillies. Some top-level business executive, I concluded from the cut of his suit, or possibly an academic on a sabbatical exchange program.