by Timothy Zahn
"We assumed that Daulo Sammon sent me that note," she said slowly. "Only we know now that he didn't." She seemed to brace herself. "What if it was actually sent by Miron Akim?"
Merrick felt his mouth drop open. "The Shahni agent?"
"I know it sounds crazy," Jin admitted. "But I can't think of anyone else on Qasama aside from the Sammon family who ever heard my full name."
"Obolo Nardin did," Daulo said, his face darkening with memory. "I distinctly remember you telling him who you were. Rather proudly, in fact."
"Not that it made any impression on him," Jin said. "But no, I only gave him the name Jasmine. The note refers to me as both Jasmine and Jin." She looked at Merrick. "In which case, it's possible Carsh Zoshak showed no reaction because he wasn't here to capture us, but merely to report on our arrival."
"Ridiculous," Fadil said with a snort.
"Fadil," Daulo said warningly.
"I apologize for any disrespect, my father," Fadil gritted out. "But it is ridiculous. What in the name of God would the Shahni want with enemies of Qasama?"
"We aren't your—" Merrick broke off at a gesture from his mother.
"I don't know what he would want with us," Jin said calmly. "I'm simply following the logic trail."
"To a completely erroneous conclusion," Fadil insisted.
"Possibly," Jin said calmly. "I'm open to other suggestions."
For a moment no one spoke. "I have to say, I agree with my son," Daulo said. "Such a suggestion is so unlikely as to border on the completely impossible." He made a face. "Unfortunately, I have nothing more probable to offer."
"Well, then, I guess it's time Merrick and I finally paid a visit to the Shahni," Jin said. She was trying to keep her tone light, Merrick knew, but he could sense the quiet concern beneath it. The Shahni, after all, were the ones who had declared Qasama's national hatred for the Cobra Worlds in the first place. "Where do they make their headquarters these days?"
"Where they always have: the city of Sollas," Daulo said. "You understand now why your arrival on their very doorstep fifty-five years ago was such a shock and concern to us all."
"If it makes you feel any better, the choice of the team's landing zone was purely coincidental," Jin assured him. "All the official records—as well the stories I heard from my father and uncle—agree that they picked Sollas only because it was more or less in the center of the string of Great Arc settlements."
"Which is precisely why it was made the capital to begin with," Daulo said. "Which makes you capable of predicting and anticipating our actions, which offers us no comfort at all."
Merrick felt his throat tighten. Qasaman paranoia. He'd heard his mother and grandfather talk about it, but until now he'd never truly understood the full implications of the phrase. "So Sollas it is," he put in, hoping to turn the conversation away from supposed Cobra Worlds omniscience. "We can get a bus to there, right?"
"Buses are hardly the transport of choice for fugitives," Daulo said heavily. "No, I'd better drive you."
"We can't let you do that," Jin said firmly. "Just let us have a vehicle and a map and we'll manage it ourselves."
"Have either of you a proper license?" Daulo asked. "I didn't think so. We may be a bit casual on the point of personal identity papers—a long and very deep part of our heritage—but we are very firm on allowing only those so authorized to drive our roads. Among other matters, you can't purchase fuel without one."
Jin threw Merrick a helpless look, then reluctantly nodded. "I have no right to ask such risks of you, Daulo Sammon," she said. "But I see no other way. Thank you for your offer, and we accept with humble thanks. How long a drive will it be?"
"If we leave within the next hour, we should be there around dawn," Daulo said.
"Can we do that?" Jin asked. "I mean, travel at night?"
"Of course." Daulo smiled humorlessly. "Interestingly enough, the number of predator attacks has been dropping steadily over the past half century. I suppose we have your people to thank for that."
"I have a question," Merrick said, trying to visualize the Qasaman maps he'd looked through. "I can't see how we can make a trip that long without driving straight through."
"Were you wanting to stop and sightsee along the way?" Daulo asked.
"I was thinking more about driver fatigue," Merrick said. "Unless you're planning to let Mom or me drive for a while."
"Weren't you listening?" Fadil snapped. "You can't drive here."
"It'll be all right," Daulo said. "If I get tired, we can stop for a brief rest."
"Which will look highly suspicious to anyone passing by," Fadil argued.
"We'll just have to risk that." Daulo eyed his son. "Unless you have an alternative to offer."
For a long moment Fadil glared at his father. Merrick flicked on his infrared again, watching with interest as parts of the young man's image shifted between red and orange with his fluctuating emotional state. "You know what the only alternative is," Fadil said at last. "We drive them together."
Daulo inclined his head; acknowledgment or thanks, Merrick couldn't tell which. "Do you have any other equipment, Jasmine Moreau?"
"We have some packs buried off the road about half a kilometer south of the village," Jin said. "But we can hardly pick them up in broad daylight with the gate guards already suspicious."
"I'd rather not wait until nightfall to leave Milika," Daulo said. "Can you make do without them?"
"Easily," Jin said with a nod. "There's nothing in there we can't do without."
Merrick grimaced. Nothing except their camo night-fighting suits, their compact medical kits, their rope and climbing gear, and a few small smoke-and-shock diversionary devices. But she was right. If Zoshak was still suspicious, parking alongside the road while someone went for a short walk would be a suicidally stupid thing to do.
"Then as soon as we've collected some spare clothing for you, we'll be under way," Daulo decided. "Fadil, we'll take the green truck. Go make sure it's fueled—" he smiled tightly "—and add a few small boxes of recent ore samples from the mine."
Fadil frowned. "Ore samples?"
"If we're going to go to Patrolo to discuss joint operations with the Sinn family refining facilities, we'll need to show them samples of our output," Daulo said. "Go."
"Yes, Father." Fadil gave Daulo the sign of respect and then, grudgingly, Merrick thought, repeated the gesture to him and his mother. Turning, he went back downstairs and disappeared down a corridor leading toward the rear of the house.
"Come," Daulo said, gesturing to Jin and Merrick as he headed the opposite direction down the corridor. "We'll see about food for you while we pack a few essentials."
Merrick and Jin fell into step beside him. Behind Daulo's back, Merrick caught his mother's eye. I hope you know what you're doing, he mouthed silently to her.
Her lip twitched. So do I, she mouthed back.
Chapter Six
The truck Fadil brought up was a relatively small one, about the size of an Aventinian personal transport vehicle, with a cab in front and an enclosed cargo area attached behind it equipped with front, rear, and side windows. The cab only had two main seats, but the slightly enlarged space behind it included two inward-facing fold-down jump seats.
From the gate guards' point of view, of course, the vehicle made perfect sense. With the visitors' own car supposedly waiting a couple of kilometers down the road, there was no reason for Daulo to bring a larger vehicle. He would theoretically simply drop his guests at their own car, refill its fuel tank, and then the four of them would continue on to Patrolo in a two-vehicle convoy.
But of course there was no such car conveniently waiting for them. As the four of them settled into the truck, and Merrick tried to find a comfortable position for his feet that wouldn't involve kicking his mother's, he reluctantly concluded that this was going to be a very long trip.
But at least their exit from Milika was satisfyingly anticlimactic. None of the gate guards gave them so
much as a second glance as they headed out of town. Carsh Zoshak himself, in fact, wasn't even present, and Merrick dared to hope that the Shahni agent really was in Milika merely to check on social detail compliance.
The first major population center along the southward road was the city of Azras. There they stopped for fuel and a meal before
turning northeast onto the main road that linked Qasama's five major Western Arm cities. By the time the sunlight faded away behind the forest and the stars began to appear, they were alone on the road.
Merrick spent most of the night staring out the cab window past his mother's head at the stretches of forest and plain rolling past them, or out the windshield at the winding road ahead. Occasionally, just for a change of pace, he took in the view out the rear window, looking through the mostly empty cargo area and out the cargo area's own rear window, watching the red-lit landscape disappear behind them.
He caught occasional snatches of sleep, too. But the seat and his position were uncomfortable enough that those interludes of oblivion didn't last very long. Seated across from him, his mother seemed to be having a much easier time of it, as did Fadil at Merrick's right in the front passenger seat.
A little after midnight Daulo found a long, open, and deserted stretch of highway and pulled off to switch drivers. Merrick and Jin got out as well, glad of the opportunity to stretch their legs for a minute. The forest had been cleared well back of the road at this point, and as Merrick paced back and forth he used his optical enhancers to check the tree line on both sides for predators. He spotted a single spine leopard lurking among some thorn bushes, but if the creature even noticed the humans it made no sign. A few minutes later they were all back in the truck and, with Fadil now at the wheel, they continued on their way.
The glow of approaching dawn was reddening the sky ahead when Merrick first noticed they were being followed.
"Mom?" he murmured, just loud enough to be heard over the road noise.
"I know," she murmured back. "He's been there for at least the last half hour."
Merrick stared at her. "Half an hour? And you didn't say anything?"
"Who's been where for half an hour?" Fadil asked, frowning at them in the mirror. "What are we talking about?"
"We're talking about the person or persons following us," Jin told him.
"We're being followed?" Daulo asked, straightening up in the passenger seat and throwing a quick look over his shoulder.
"Yes, but so far that's all he seems interested in doing," Jin said.
Fadil muttered something under his breath. "More Shahni agents?"
"Unlikely," Daulo said. "Half an hour would have been more than enough time for an agent to call for a roadblock or an air strike."
"Unless they merely want to watch us," Fadil growled.
"Again, unlikely," Daulo said. "Instead of following us, it would be much more effective for them to put a SkyJo combat helicopter directly overhead at an altitude where we would never notice it."
"Maybe it's just another traveler heading to Sollas," Merrick suggested.
"I don't think so," his mother said. "There was that half-kilometer of bad road about fifteen minutes ago where Fadil had to slow way down. A normal car would have maintained his speed on the good road until he hit the patch himself, which would have meant temporarily closing the gap between us. Instead, he slowed to match our speed, staying as far back as he could while still maintaining visual contact. And he also didn't slow down through the rough patch, again maintaining visual in case we turned off on one of these side roads."
"So then who is he?" Merrick asked.
"Probably part of a local gang of thieves," Daulo said contemptuously. "We're probably heading for their roadblock right now."
"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Merrick said. "I'll take care of it."
"How?" Jin asked suspiciously.
"I'm going to give him some car trouble," Merrick said. "Master Sammon, do we have any left-hand curves coming up? Preferably something with forest or other cover close at hand."
There was a soft glow from the front seat as Daulo consulted his map. "There's a fairly sharp left curve about five kilometers ahead," he reported. "But the nearest trees to that spot are almost twenty meters back from the road."
"Any depressions or pits anywhere along the curve?" Merrick asked.
"There's a drainage channel running along both shoulders the whole length of the curve," Daulo said. "But they're not likely to be more than half a meter deep."
"Good enough," Merrick assured him. "Can you keep the overhead light from going on when the door is opened?"
"What exactly are you planning?" Daulo asked as he reached up to the dome light switch.
"As I said, I'm going to give him some car trouble," Merrick said, swiveling his legs around the front side of his jump seat. "Lean forward, please, and crack the door open a few centimeters."
"Wait a minute," Daulo said, his tone suddenly ominous. "You're not planning to jump, are you?"
"Don't worry, I'll be fine," Merrick assured him. "Low-altitude aircar quick-exits are something we do all the time."
He looked at his mother, waiting for her to raise the point that, although the quick-exit was certainly taught at the academy, Merrick himself hadn't done one since graduation. But she remained silent. "As soon as I'm out, close the door and keep going at the same speed," Merrick continued. "Mom will tell you when you should slow down so that I can catch up with you."
"Understood," Daulo said. "Be careful."
He hitched his seat forward and opened his door a crack. Merrick got one hand on the seat back and the other on the doorjamb and waited.
They reached the curve, and as they turned into it Merrick eased himself alongside Daulo's seat and pushed the door open half a meter, balancing himself partway out the door. The wind buffeted hard against his face, and he closed his eyes against the onslaught as he keyed in his optical enhancers to give him some vision. For a few seconds he crouched beside Daulo, waiting for just the right moment . . . and as they approached the midpoint of the curve, he shifted his weight and dropped out the door.
He barely had time to get his legs pumping before his feet hit the pavement. For a second he thought he wasn't going to make it, that his feet would be swept out from under him and he would end up being dragged along the road.
Then his nanocomputer got his servo-driven legs into the rhythm, and he had his balance back. He released his grip on the door, angled toward the edge of the shoulder, and started to slow down. For another couple of seconds he fought the same fight against speed that he'd just won, only this time in reverse.
And as the truck continued past him down the curve, Merrick threw himself headfirst into the drainage channel beside the road, tucking his forearms against his face to protect it as he slid off the remainder of his momentum.
He'd half expected his Qasaman outfit to disintegrate under the stress, leaving him with a few bad scrapes at the very least. But the clothing was tougher than he'd realized, and it came through the ordeal with only some minor rips. Even more fortunately, the channel was dry, which meant no huge spray of water to warn the trailing car that one of their quarries had flown the coop. Ignoring the handful of bumps and bruises his landing had beaten into his arms and chest, Merrick rolled up onto his back and waited.
From his new vantage point, he heard the tailing car well before he saw it. He focused on the edge of the road, his right hand curling into firing position. The car flashed past, and in a single motion Merrick sat up, glanced a target lock onto the nearer rear wheel, and fired his fingertip laser. There was a muffled pop as the tire blew.
And suddenly the car was all over the road, its tires screeching as the driver fought to bring it back under control. Merrick swung himself around and rose up into a low crouch, watching the car swerving back and forth. As soon as it came to a halt, he would slip away, cut across the landscape, and catch up with his mother and the Sammons.
He wa
s still watching when the driver abruptly lost his battle with momentum. The car shot across the center line, angled across the shoulder, and slammed down into the drainage channel on the far side.
"Damn!" Merrick bit out as he leaped up and sprinted toward the car. The idea had been to quietly and peaceably stop the vehicle, not wreck it and injure or kill everyone inside. He reached the car and bent down to look inside.
The driver was draped over the steering wheel, his head and arms limp, his face turned away. Swearing again, Merrick hurried around to the driver's side and pulled at the door. It resisted, probably knocked out of shape by the crash. He tried again, this time putting his servos into the effort, and with a horrible grinding noise the door came open.
The driver didn't move. Gingerly, Merrick reached in and touched his fingertips to the other's neck. To his relief, he found a slow but steady pulse. At least the man wasn't dead. Merrick focused on the other's face, notching up his light-amps.
And a sudden chill ran down his back. This wasn't just some random member of some random gang.
It was Carsh Zoshak.
There was the sound of tires on pavement, and he looked up to see the Sammon truck back up to a jerky halt in front of the wrecked car. "What happened?" Jin called as she jumped out of the truck.
"He lost control when I popped his tire," Merrick said grimly. "And it's not a thief. It's Carsh Zoshak."
"What?" Daulo demanded as he got out of his side of the truck and hurried to join them. "But—"
"I guess he wasn't senior enough to call in a SkyJo," Merrick said. "Mom, can you help me get him out of the car?"
"You think that's wise?" Jin asked as she leaned into the car and checked Zoshak's pulse for herself.
"Well, we can't exactly leave him here," Merrick said tersely. "I don't see any blood, but there could be a concussion or internal injuries."
Daulo came up beside them, his expression tense. "God in heaven," he breathed, looking at the unconscious Shahni agent. "What did you do?"