The Third Lynx by Timothy Zahn Read Free Book Online

surrounded the Coreline, where it zipped along until kicked back down to another train coming into the next station along the way.
    A cynically minded person might assume the Spiders maintained the fraud in order to rake in the money the rest of us had to pay for interstellar transport. But there was more to it than that. A lot more. With the Tube severely limiting access to the Thread’s vicinity, the Spiders could maintain tight control over everything that traveled between the stars. Specifically, they could restrict war-class weapons, limiting such transfers to legitimate governments, and then only in order to beef up the defenses at those governments’ own colony worlds.
    Which meant that anyone who wanted to make trouble on someone else’s turf would end up going against warships with the military equivalent of popguns. With the Tube in place, and the Spiders controlling the Tube, interstellar war was impossible.
    With the Tube gone, all bets would be off. Anyone would be able to build warships and troop transports and self-guiding weapons and send them zipping along the Thread to the next empire down the line.
    And they would. I knew enough about alien psychology, and more than enough about the Human version, to know that if interstellar travel was open and unrestricted we would soon have the sort of massive power struggles that had plagued Earth for most of its history. The Thread had enabled the Shonkla-raa to enslave most of the galaxy, and the Spiders and Chahwyn were determined not to let it happen again.
    They’d been doing a pretty good job of it, too, until the Modhri showed up.
    The first-class car Bayta and I found ourselves in was identical to all the others I’d seen during the months I’d been working with the Spiders. The seats were large and comfortable, with automatic cushion adjustments that could accommodate the full range of passenger rear ends. Each seat had its own reading light, drink holder, and music system, plus an eyeshade and sonic neutralizer for when the occupant grew tired of the genteel party atmosphere that usually pervaded first class and wanted to get some sleep. The chairs here were also mobile, and could be moved around to create conversation or game circles, swiveled for a view of whatever was playing on each of the car’s display windows, or just moved off into a corner for reading or quiet contemplation.
    The passenger roster was also pretty typical of what I’d seen before, consisting of the rarefied upper crust of a variety of the galaxy’s species. In second and third class, travelers tended to segregate themselves by species. Not so in first. Juriani and Halkas, Bellidos and Pirks, Humans and Cimmaheem—we were all just one big happy family.
    Of course, for the passengers the Modhri had co-opted, the family metaphor was literally true.
    But if the Modhri mind segment I assumed was riding our train recognized Bayta and me, he apparently decided to play it cool. There were no obvious stares or scowls from any of the passengers, and certainly no attempts to make any trouble. In fact, aside from a few curious looks at our nonrarefied-upper-crust clothing, the rest of the car’s occupants pretty much ignored us.
    As for the fifteen Bellidos who’d arrived at Bellis Station under armed escort, they seemed to be keeping to their compartments one car forward.
    Still, there was one amenity even a first-class compartment lacked, and that was personal food service. As the hours crept by. in ones and twos, the reclusive Bellidos began passing through our car on their way to the first-class dining car just behind us. Lounging in my seat, my legs propped up comfortably and my reader nestled in the crook of my elbow just for show, I took careful mental notes.
    The first stop on our way back toward Human space was the Greesovra system, one of the Belldic regional capitals, seven hours out from Bellis. A few of our car’s passengers, mostly Bellidos, got off there, to be replaced