Cobra Guardian: Cobra War: Book Two (30 page)

Now, though, all her thoughts and fears about what might be happening to her husband and daughter were coming back full force. "There are lots of predators, small, medium, and large," she told Rashida, "plus lots of herbivores with sharp spikes, poisoned tongues and quills, and other defenses. Organic plant life floats through the air and takes root on pretty much everything, which in turn draws insects and then the smaller predators."

Siraj snorted. "Sounds worse even than Qasaman village life."

"It does indeed," Rashida agreed soberly. "And I find myself agreeing with Carsh Zoshak's concerns. What can we say that will induce these Cobras to abandon their people to such attacks in order to help us?"

"That's not actually the proper question," Khatir said, running his fingers through his--unusual for a Qasaman--red hair. "The proper question is what can we offer them in trade."

"Are you suggesting we
buy
their assistance?" Siraj growled.

Khatir shrugged. "Be realistic, Siraj Akim. No one does anything except for a price."

"
We
do," Siraj insisted, slapping his chest in emphasis. "We serve the Shahni and the people of Qasama with no hope or expectation of any reward."

"Of course you expect something," Rashida said. "The price you've been paid--all three of you--is the right to call yourselves Djinn of Qasama."

"That's not the same thing," Siraj insisted.

"Actually, it is," Jin said. "Honor may not be a form of wealth, but it's a reward and a price just the same."

"Is that the price your leaders paid for you, too?" Siraj asked, a slight sneer in his voice.

"As a matter of fact, yes, it was," Jin said calmly. "We are very similar, Siraj Akim. More similar perhaps than you would like to admit."

Zoshak chuckled. "Now you're just being insulting," he said.

Abruptly, Siraj stood up. "Do you make humor at my expense?" he demanded.

The whole room seemed to freeze in place. Jin stared at Siraj, not moving, hardly daring to breathe. Both he and Zoshak were dressed in their Djinn combat suits, snug outfits of treated krissjaw hide stiffened by fiber meshwork, with strength-enhancing servos at the joints that keyed directly off the wearer's own nervous-system electrical impulses. Neither of them was wearing his helmet or the gloves that contained the Qasamans' version of Cobra fingertip lasers, but even without those weapons the suits made them into awesome fighting machines, in some ways even superior to Cobras. If they came to blows, it could be an extremely dangerous confrontation.

In the old days, Jin knew, clashes of honor on Qasama had taken the form of duels, some styles leading to death, others only wounding the loser's pride. With the cultural changes that had taken place over the past few decades, she had no idea what the current style of ritualized combat was. She was also not at all anxious to find out.

Fortunately, for now at least, she wouldn't have to. "My apologies, Ifrit Akim," Zoshak said formally. "No offense was intended."

For a moment Siraj continued to glare. Then, perhaps suddenly remembering that there were two non-Djinn outsiders present, both of them women, he let his shoulders relax. "Accepted, Djinni Zoshak," he said just as formally as he resumed his seat.

"So that's settled," Khatir said cheerfully into the lingering tension. "Excellent. According to the navigation data in the ship's computer, it should take no more than thirty-two hours to get to Caelian. Since we don't know whether the Cobras on Caelian will be willing to trade in the coin of honor and glory, I suggest we all spend those hours making lists of what we and the Shahni might offer for their assistance."

"What
we
might offer for their assistance," Siraj corrected firmly. "The Shahni are not here, and we cannot bind them to any agreements." He raised his eyebrows. "Cannot, and
will
not."

"No, of course not," Khatir said hastily. "I was merely suggesting that as the highest-ranking Djinni aboard you might be able to make tentative agreements, subject of course to later consideration and approval."

"We are warriors of the Shahni, Ghofl Khatir, not the Shahni themselves," Siraj ground out. "I will make no promise, and no bargain, that I personally cannot keep." He shifted his glare to Jin. "If that's not enough for the Cobras of Caelian, then we shall shake the dust of that world from our feet and return home."

"They'll come," Jin promised, a lump rising into her throat. "Enough of them will."

Siraj growled something under his breath. "I hope so, if only for the sake of my father," he said darkly. "
He
certainly believed in you." He shifted his gaze to the display, and the Troft freighter starting to move away from them. "But we shall see. We shall see."

* * *

The quarters Warrior had assigned his guests appeared to be a standard crew room, hastily and incompletely modified to accommodate human physiology. At one end of the room was a three-tiered bunk bed, at the other a compact shower/toilet/sink combination, with the walls between them occupied by a fold-down game table and a set of three lockers.

By the time Lorne dragged himself wearily through the door, Nissa had finished her shower and was fast asleep on the top bunk, dressed in one of a set of robes that the Trofts had left for them. Croi, in the midst of a cloud of steam behind the frosted glass, was busily scrubbing himself down.

Wearily, Lorne dropped onto the lowest bunk and pried off his shoes. He was sorely tempted to just roll over onto his side, close his eyes, and forget his own shower until after he'd gotten some desperately needed sleep. But he was filthy, his whole body ached with the day's activities, and a soothing shower would go a long way toward making him feel like a civilized human being again.

Besides, if he went to sleep now, it would probably be hours before he woke up. Croi had a right to hear about the decision Lorne and Warrior had come to sooner than then.

And he had a right to hear about it from Lorne.

Lorne had fallen into a light doze, still sitting up, when he was jarred awake by the gentle slapping of Croi's hand on his shoulder. "Broom?" the other said. "Shower's free."

Lorne blinked his eyes open, wincing at the sandlike grit beneath the lids. "Thanks," he said. "But we need to talk first."

"Not long, I hope," Croi said, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him. "What are we talking about?"

Lorne hesitated, searching for the best way to say this. But he was too tired to even try to be diplomatic. "Warrior and I have decided where to take Isis," he said.

Croi's eyes narrowed. "
You
decided?"

"Yes," Lorne said. "We're taking it to Caelian."

Croi's jaw dropped. "
Caelian
?"

"Think about it," Lorne urged. "He wants it hidden? Fine--there are a hundred places on Caelian where we could put it where any invaders would literally kill themselves trying to get to it. You want to use it? Also fine--the people there are rough and tough, and heading to Aventine to fight a war would probably seem like a vacation compared to their life there."

"I don't know," Croi said, rubbing the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. But at least he wasn't yelling. "I'm not involved with the Cobra screening process myself, but the people who are say that the average Caelianite is borderline crazy."

"Because they prefer to stay put in their homes instead of moving to Viminal?"

"That's probably part of it," Croi said. "The point is that we may have trouble finding three hundred men who can pass the screening test."

"So open it up to women, too," Lorne suggested.

Something behind Croi's eyes seemed to suddenly turn to stone. "You're not serious."

"Why not?" Lorne countered. "You want to win this war and throw the Trofts off Aventine? Or are you more interested in playing by someone else's idea of what the proper rules of life ought to be?"

Croi snorted. "Look who's talking about playing by someone else's rules. Is that what this whole thing is about to you? Some bizarre way to justify your mother and your family?"

Lorne stared at him. "Are you even
listening
to yourself? Do you really think I had a plan involving stuff I didn't even know about until an hour ago?"

"It hardly matters what I think anymore, does it?" Croi shot back. "You and Ingidi-inhiliziyo have made your deal. The rest of us either can like it or live with it."

"Pretty much, yes," Lorne said, suddenly tired of this conversation. "And while you're deciding which you're going to do, I suggest you get some sleep. The whole thing will look a lot more reasonable in the morning."

"Which will be just about the time we'll be getting there, won't it?" Croi growled. "What is it, thirty hours to Caelian at a freighter's top speed?"

"From here, about thirty-one," Lorne said, standing up and starting to pull off his clothes. "I'm going to take a shower. Don't wait up."

Croi's only answer was another snort as he pulled his feet up onto the bunk, stretched out on his side, and pointedly rolled over to turn his back to Lorne and the universe at large. With a sigh, Lorne finished undressing, adding his torn, filthy, smoky clothing to the pile beside the door.

He was about to step into the shower when something made him turn around. Croi was still turned to the wall, but Nissa was lying facing out into the room. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was slow and regular, but as Lorne keyed in his infrareds he saw that her heat signature was too high for that of a sleeping person.

Had she woken up during his argument with Croi? If so, how much had she heard? And what had she made of it all?

But his brain was too foggy to even consider such questions. Closing the shower door behind him, he turned on the water. His only goal right now was to clean himself off, get dressed, and climb up into the remaining bunk.

And to stay awake until he got there.

Chapter Fifteen

Given the way the Troft at the reception point had snarled at them, Jody spent the entire walk across Stronghold expecting to find an execution block waiting for her and Freylan at the other end. It was therefore with a mixture of relief and embarrassment that she discovered they were simply being escorted to the three-story Government Building near the center of town, where they were taken straight up to the governor's residence on the top floor.

They found Governor Uy standing in the living room, gazing out one of the north-facing windows, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. "Ms. Broom; Mr. Sonderby," he greeted them, looking surprised as he strode across the room toward them. "So that
was
your aircar I saw put down a few minutes ago. I was hoping it was."

"Yes, sir," Jody said as their Troft guard backed out of the apartment and closed the door. "We're very sorry for the intrusion."

"Don't be, my dear, dear young people," Uy said feelingly as he reached them.

And to Jody's astonishment he pulled both her and Freylan close to him, wrapping them in a tight group hug.

Which wasn't at all what it seemed. "Cameras and microphones in the living and dining room; microphones everywhere else," the governor whispered as he pressed their heads close to his. "Don't say anything you don't want them to hear. Understood?"

Jody nodded, a tiny movement in Uy's crushing embrace, and felt Freylan do likewise. Uy held the hug another second, then released them and stepped back. "You must be famished," he went on. "And badly in need of sleep, too, I warrant. An entire night spent out in Wonderland. My wife Elssa's in the other room--shall I ask her to fix you some food? Or would you prefer a place to rest first?"

"Both sound good," Jody said. "But before that, maybe you can tell us what in the Worlds happened here. I mean, we take off yesterday to get some samples, and come back to find armed Trofts in the streets."

"If it was a shock to you, I can assure you it was no less so to us," Uy said, gesturing to a conversation circle at the west end of the room. "The fact of the matter is that we appear to have been invaded."

"Incredible," Jody said as they all sat down, she and Freylan on one of the couches, Uy in an armchair facing them. "But that would certainly explain the laser slash marks we saw as we were coming in. They came in shooting?"

"Not exactly," Uy said. "I think they more or less expected us to simply and calmly accept their presence without making any trouble."

"And you didn't?" Freylan suggested.

Uy's throat tightened. "Not at all," he confirmed. "We were afraid that if we waited until they'd settled in and disembarked their troops it would put the civilians in greater danger than if we attacked before that happened. So we did. The Cobras targeted those little wings where most of the weapons seemed to be clustered and opened fire."

Jody winced. "Only even Cobra antiarmor lasers didn't do any good against them."

"No, they didn't," Uy said, his voice going bitter. "And then they fired back. We lost eighteen Cobras in that first salvo."

"Sending a message," Freylan murmured, his voice thoughtful. "The way they did last night."

Uy looked sharply at him, but Jody lifted a calming hand. It wasn't like the Trofts listening in didn't know all about last night's events, after all.

As Uy himself also quickly realized. "Yes, I woke up in time to catch the end of that show," he said. He hesitated, and Jody saw him brace himself. "You said they sent the same kind of message?"

"Their return fire killed a Cobra named Buckley," Jody said. "I think he was the only one."

"Buckley," Uy mused, and she saw him relax fractionally at the news that the Troft's violent response hadn't taken his own son. "Inevitable, I suppose, that it was him. You didn't know the man, but Joe was one of those who courted death on nearly a daily basis, yet always came cheerfully back for more."

"I'm sorry," Jody said, quietly. "So that brings the total to sixteen?"

"Oh, it brings it much higher than that," Uy said sourly. "We'd learned our lesson on that one, all right, but the day's seminars were hardly over. A few minutes after we gave up our assault, a ramp lowered from partway up the bow of each of the ships and a half dozen floatcycles came buzzing out and headed over the wall toward the gate. We took out three of them before the ship's lasers opened fire again. We lost five more on that one."