by Timothy Zahn
He was steeling himself for the task when Narayan deftly shouldered him out of the way, brandishing a thick-bladed knife he'd produced from somewhere. "I'll do it," he said. "Take a moment and assess the enemy threat."
"Right," Merrick said, his knees suddenly starting to tremble with fatigue, shock, and probably loss of blood. Stepping back to give Narayan room to work, he looked around.
Earlier, when he and his mother and Miron Akim had driven to the control tower, it had seemed like the area was crawling with Trofts. Now, in contrast, the aliens were conspicuous by their absence, at least in and around the couple of blocks within Merrick's view. Whatever else Plan Saikah had or hadn't accomplished, it had certainly cleared the enemy troops off the streets.
But the lack of ground troops didn't mean the Trofts didn't still control the city. As Merrick stepped out of the transport's shadow, he found himself gazing at one of the Trofts' big wrigglefish sentry ships as it squatted on guard two blocks away.
A shiver ran up his back. The weapons clusters beneath the stubby forward wings were tracking back and forth, a constant reminder of the death and destruction ready to be unleashed at the touch of a button. So far the operators of those weapons didn't seem to be reacting to this particular drama, but Merrick doubted that would last much longer. Once the aliens realized what was happening, they would certainly try to do something about it.
There was a sudden crackling thud, and Merrick turned back to see the transport's window pop neatly out of its frame. "Come," Narayan called, reaching in through the gap and opening the door. As Merrick hurried back to join him, the Djinni grabbed the twitching Troft driver, pulled him out onto the street, and bounded inside. Merrick grabbed the edge of the door and started to follow.
And nearly lost his grip as a blast of reflected sound slammed over him from inside the transport. "Djinni Moreau!" Narayan called, his voice suddenly slurred. "Assist!"
Shaking his head to clear it, Merrick pulled himself up into the cab and around the seat into the transport's main compartment.
When he'd looked through the windshield right after the two vehicles had crashed, he'd seen the passengers and their Troft guards sprawled on the floor where the impact had thrown them. But in the minute since then, the situation had changed dramatically. Four of the six aliens were back on their feet, one of them battling for his laser with the young Qasaman man who had tangled the chain of his wrist shackles around the weapon's muzzle and was trying desperately to keep the aim away from himself and the other prisoners. One of the other Trofts was pounding at the young man with the butt of his laser, trying to knock him away from the first soldier. In the car corner the young woman was standing with defiant helplessness between her children and the lasers of the other two conscious aliens. To Merrick's left, the old woman had thrown herself on top of one of the Trofts who hadn't yet made it back to his feet, trying to hold him down with the sheer weight of her body.
It was a scene that should have been vibrant with violent activity, but at the moment no one was doing much of anything at all. Everyone in the vehicle, human and Troft alike, was staggering with the effects of Narayan's sonic blast.
Everyone except Merrick.
He took out the two Trofts facing down the woman and children first, wrenching the laser from the nearest alien's grip and slamming it hard into his faceplate, then repeating the action with the second. He turned next to the aliens grappling with the young man, only to find that one of them had recovered enough from the sonic blast to try to bring his weapon to bear. Merrick responded by locking on to the alien's faceplate and blazing an antiarmor laser shot that dropped the Troft to the floor.
And then suddenly there was a movement to Merrick's left, and he spun around as Baaree, the Djinni who'd been providing the diversion at the transport's rear, bounded in through the driver's door, his glove-mounted lasers blazing away at the remaining Trofts. Merrick shifted his attention to the alien still trying to shove the old woman off him, targeted his helmet, and silenced him with another antiarmor blast.
Seconds later, it was over. "Nicely done," Merrick said, stepping over to the still shaky young man and blasting off his wrist shackles as Narayan helped the old woman to her feet. "We have a plan for getting out of here?"
"There's an escape tunnel three houses behind us," Narayan said, his voice still a little slurred as he gestured Baaree toward the transport's cab. Baaree nodded and stepped into the cab, sitting down behind the wheel. "We'll back the transport there and escape into the subcity."
"Sounds good," Merrick said, going over to the young woman and children and getting to work on their shackles. "Let's hope the engine still works."
His answer was a sudden jerk as the transport wrenched itself free of the other vehicle and began rolling backward. "No problem," Baaree called.
"Excellent," Narayan said, crouching down to peer out the side windows as the transport began to pick up speed. "As quickly as possible," he added. "We don't know when the invaders will—"
And without warning, the interior of the transport suddenly lit up with brilliant flash of blue light and a thunderclap and wave of superheated air that slammed Merrick up against the rear doors. Once again his nanocomputer took over, throwing him sideways toward the floor in an attempt to get him out of the line of fire. Both eyes were dazzled into uselessness, and he keyed in his enhancers to try to see what was going on.
He almost wished he hadn't. The entire windshield had been shattered by the sheer intensity of the blast, and everything in the cab that was flammable was ablaze with roiling flames and a thick, foul-smelling black smoke.
Baaree himself was no longer burning. There was nothing left of him to burn.
The Trofts in the sentry ship two blocks away had found their shot.
"Djinni Moreau!" a voice gasped through the crackle of flames. "Djinni Moreau!"
"Here," Merrick called back, closing his eyes tightly against the smoke and turning in the direction of the voice. Narayan was crouched at the side of the transport, the old woman coughing violently at his side, the Djinni's body curled half over hers to protect her as best he could.
"Can you see the others?" Narayan called back. "My eyes are blocked."
Merrick looked around, keying in his enhancers' infrared to try to penetrate the thickening smoke. The young couple and their children were huddled together in the rear of the transport, their bodies wracked with silent coughs. "They're okay," he reported. "We're going to need a new plan."
"Did they shoot through the windshield or the transport roof?" Narayan asked.
Merrick looked back at the front of the vehicle. The windshield, as he'd already noted, was completely gone. But the metal roof of the cab, though blistered, was still quite solid. "The windshield," he reported. "But we can't stay in here forever."
"We won't," Narayan said. "The rear doors are the same—" He broke off into a fit of coughing.
"Are the same material," Merrick finished for him, turning and targeting the three hinges on the left-hand door. Making sure the Qasamans were all out of splatter range, he lifted his leg and fired three quick shots.
With a screech, the door broke free, its outer edge sagging outward against the lock that still held it to the pillar between the doors. "One away," Merrick called. "Come on."
A handful of seconds later Narayan was at his side, feeling his way with one hand as he led the old woman with the other. "I still can't see to shoot," he said.
"I got it," Merrick said. He crossed to the young family, led them away from the door on that side, and blew that set of hinges. "Can you get one of them?" he asked.
In answer, Narayan moved to one of the doors, fumbling a bit as he got his hands through the crack beneath it. "Ready."
Targeting the door's lock, Merrick blasted it free, severing the last connection with the rest of the transport.
The door sagged suddenly in Narayan's grip, but the Djinni's power suit was up to the task and the heavy panel didn't fall. G
runting with the strain, Narayan manhandled the door back up to his level, leaning back to balance it against his chest and cheek. Then, stepping carefully out onto the street, he half turned to put the door between himself and the distant Troft ship's lasers. Merrick winced as the sudden cross breeze sent an extra wave of heat washing over them from the fire still blazing in the transport's cab. "Beside me," Narayan ordered.
The young man helped the old woman down from the transport's rear and positioned the two of them behind Narayan and his new shield. "You will bring the others?" the Djinni added.
"Of course," Merrick said. "Go."
"Stay close," Narayan said. With the two Qasamans close behind him, he began backing rapidly down the street.
Merrick looked at the young woman, her two children clutched close to her sides in the choking smoke. "You ready?" he asked.
"We are in your hands," she said simply.
Turning back, trying to ignore the flashes of laser light sizzling over his head as the Troft sentry ship fired shot after shot at Narayan's shield, Merrick blew the lock, sending the remaining door slamming to the ground with a dull thud. Jumping out beside it, he got a grip on one edge, angled it to the side, and got his other hand underneath it. He locked his finger servos solidly in place and levered the door upward. "Now," he called to the woman.
She was already out of the transport, still holding the boys tightly to her sides, and at Merrick's order she moved them all behind the shield, coming close enough to Merrick for him to feel her breath on his neck. "Crouch down," Merrick warned her, taking a moment to look over his shoulder. Narayan and his two charges were just disappearing into a narrow walkway between two of the houses, their shield battered and warped by the Trofts' attacks but apparently still solid. Turning back, Merrick hunched over, lowering the door to provide as much protection as he could to their legs and feet. "Now," he ordered.
The door had been rocked with four blasts of laser fire by the time they reached the walkway. Merrick held the shield in place against the side of the nearest house, letting the woman and children slip away and hurry down the passage. Then he followed, dropping the half-vaporized door behind him.
Narayan was waiting by an opening in the side of one of the buildings along the walkway. "Hurry," he called, gesturing to Merrick as the woman and boys disappeared through the door.
Merrick nodded, clenching his teeth as the scene in front of him began to waver. The adrenaline of the battle and mad-dash escape was starting to fade, and the shock and blood loss were starting to make themselves felt again. Just get to the door, he told himself. That's all you have to do. Just make it to the door.
He had made it through the door, and Narayan had closed it behind them, when the blackness finally took him.
"Fire!" the sergeant at the hospital window snapped.
Pressing his cheek against his rifle stock, Fadil held his breath and gently squeezed the trigger. The rifle bucked against his shoulder, and as he brought the weapon back to position he had the satisfaction of seeing the Troft he'd targeted sprawled on the ground. All around him, his father and the others were also firing, dropping the invaders like the vermin they were. Grinning tightly, Fadil lined up his sights on the next Troft in line.
And with a sudden buzzing sound, something came flying in through the window. It hit the sergeant full in the chest, the breaking-stick crack of its explosive not quite loud enough to cover the man's agonized scream. Clenching his teeth against the sound, Fadil checked his aim and fired his second shot, dropping another enemy soldier.
He was lining up the muzzle on his third target when he heard the sound of multiple buzzings coming toward them.
And then, with a multiple blast of a hundred carefully placed explosives, the entire Palace disintegrated in a cloud of fire and smoke and debris. Fadil flinched back, reflexively lifting his rifle in front of his face to shield his eyes.
The roar of the Palace blast was still hammering his ears when the rifle shattered in his grip.
Fadil heard himself cry out as shards of metal and wood sliced into his arms and shoulders and the side of his face. Dimly, he felt a hand grab his arm and yank him sideways, pulling him off the bed he was lying on and tumbling him onto the floor.
And then the entire room seemed to explode, and as the flame and agony and noise rose all around him, he fell into darkness.
Chapter Fifteen
The room around Merrick was ablaze with light as he dragged himself back toward consciousness. He winced away from the glare, trying to turn his head, trying even harder to close his eyes. But nothing seemed to do any good.
It was only as he untangled his arm from some kind of obstruction and brought his hand up in front of his face that he came awake enough to realize that his eyes were shut, and that the light was coming in via his optical enhancers. Apparently, he'd never gotten around to shutting them off after the battle.
He shut them off now and carefully opened his eyes. He was lying on a bed in what seemed to be a long, wide corridor with rows of beds on both sides. Some of the beds were empty, but most were occupied by figures wrapped in the same kind of hospital gowns the old man they'd broken out of the Lodestar Hospital had been wearing.
And the obstruction Merrick had had to free his arm from turned out to be a small group of thin tubes and wires that were connected to various places on his arm and torso. He frowned down at them, trying to trace them out and hoping he hadn't pulled out anything important.
"Welcome back," a familiar voice said from his left.
Merrick twisted his head around. Carsh Zoshak was sitting on a chair behind him and beside a rolling equipment table. "Thanks," Merrick said. "How long was I out?"
Zoshak shrugged. "A couple of days," he said. "You were in pretty bad shape."
"I was, wasn't I?" Merrick agreed, the memory of all his injuries flooding back to him. He'd been so busy checking out his surroundings over the past minute or so that he hadn't even thought about checking out himself. Carefully, he touched his cheek where the Troft laser had burned it.
To find that it was completely healed.
He frowned, pressing a little harder against the skin, and then gently sliding the finger up and down. The skin felt a little leathery beneath the growth of beard stubble, but it wasn't the hard leather of scar tissue. More importantly, there was no pain.
Nor was there any pain in his chest where Shahni Haafiz had tried his best to knife him open. He slipped a hand beneath his gown and touched the skin, to find the same slightly leathery consistency and no sign of torn flesh.
He looked back to find an amused smile on Zoshak's face. "I gather you're impressed?" the Djinni suggested.
"Very much so," Merrick assured him, a sudden coolness dampening his initial excitement at his remarkable healing. For all this to have happened so quickly . . . "I assume this means you used some of your drugs on me?"
Zoshak's smile faded. "Of course we did," he said. "Would you have preferred to spend weeks in a recovery room?"
"No, of course not," Merrick said. He touched his cheek again, thinking about the stories he'd heard about the Qasamans' drugs and their sometimes dangerous side effects.
Still, the Shahni were surely taking care not to damage their soldiers. Any of their soldiers, even interlopers like himself and his mother.
Speaking of whom—"Have you heard anything about my mother and Miron Akim?" he asked.
A shadow seemed to cross Zoshak's face. "I have," he said. "They were both able to escape their captors and return safely to the subcity."
"How safely?" Merrick asked, something ominous stirring inside him as he tried to read the other's expression. "Were they injured? Lightly? Seriously? Dangerously?"
"Neither was injured in their escape."
"After their escape?" Merrick persisted. "Before their escape? Come on, Carsh Zoshak—I need to know."
Zoshak's lips compressed briefly. "Your mother may have some other medical problems," he said reluctantly.
"Problems unrelated to their mission."
Merrick grimaced. She had medical problems, all right. All Cobras her age did. "Are they going to check her out?"
"I believe they've already done the tests and are studying the results," Zoshak said.
"Can I see her?"
"Certainly, after the doctors discharge you," Zoshak said. "That should be later today, or tomorrow at the latest."
"Can't we sneak over there right now?" Merrick asked. "I promise to be good and keep the meeting short."
"Not until you're discharged," Zoshak said firmly. "Until then, you must remain in the ward."
Merrick peered down the line of beds, hoping to spot a doctor or nurse with whom he could argue the point. But he couldn't see anyone who seemed to be in charge.
But he'd had enough experience with doctors on Aventine to know that he'd probably be wasting his breath anyway. "Fine," he said with a sigh. "Can you at least tell me how the battle went?"
A muscle in Zoshak's cheek twitched. "The part you and I played was very successful," he said. "Those we rescued are safely in the subcity, where they've joined in the fight against the invaders. Mali Haafiz, in particular, asked me to extend her gratitude for your service to her and her family. She was the older woman," he added. "The wife of Shahni Haafiz."
"Who was the one who tried to kill me."
Zoshak grimaced. "Yes."
"I take it he has no more doubts about me?"
Zoshak's eyes slipped away. "Shahni Haafiz is very busy with the city's defense," he said obliquely.
Merrick felt a stirring of anger. "Meaning he still thinks I'm your enemy?"
"Keep your voice down," Zoshak warned, glancing almost furtively at the nearby beds. "Keep your words and your identity to yourself."
Merrick's budding anger vanished. The look in Zoshak's eyes . . . "Did something go wrong?" he asked quietly.
For a moment Zoshak didn't answer. Then, his shoulders seemed to droop. "Everything went wrong, Merrick Moreau," he said quietly. "We thought we were prepared for anything. We weren't. We thought we could take on any enemy who dared attack us. We couldn't."