by Cobra(lit)
"Governed by those who'd do the best job?" Jonny cut in. "Us, for instance?"
"In many ways, our struggle to tame Aventine is analogous to the guerrilla war we waged against the Trofts," Challinor said. "If I do say so myself, we did a hell of a job back then-don't you agree? Who on this planet could do better?"
"So what are you suggesting?" MacDonald asked, his tone far more interested than it had any business being. "We carve Aventine into little kingdoms, each one run by a Cobra?"
"Basically," Challinor nodded. "It's a bit more complicated than that-there'd have to be a loose hierarchy to settle disputes and such-but that's the general idea. What do you say? Are you interested?"
"How many of you are there?" MacDonald asked, ignoring the question.
"Enough," Challinor said. "The four of us here, plus the three from Fallow, two from Weald, and three more from Headwater and the lumber camps upslope of the
Kerseage Mines."
"You propose to take over an entire world with twelve Cobras?"
Challinor's brow furrowed slightly. "No, of course not. But I've talked to a lot of other Cobras, both in and out of Caravel District. Most of them are willing to wait and see what happens with our experiment."
"In other words, to see how hard Zhu comes down on you when you declare independence?" MacDonald shook his head. "Your thinking's got loose connections,
Challinor. No Cobra's going to be allowed to stay neutral in something like that-they'll be ordered to come here and restore the syndic's rule, and their answer to that order will put them on one side or the other. With the odds at-let's see; twelve Cobras out of six hundred twenty makes it about fifty to one-which way do you think they'll jump?"
"Which way are you jumping, MacDonald?" L'est cut in suddenly from his seat by the door. "You ask a lot of questions for someone who hasn't committed himself yet."
MacDonald kept his eyes on Challinor. "How about it, Challinor? This is going to take more than an ace or two up your sleeve."
"I asked you a question, damn it!" L'est snapped.
Deliberately, MacDonald turned to face the other; just as leisurely he got to his feet. "I stand where I and my family have always stood: with the Dominion of
Man. What you're talking is treason, gentlemen; I won't have any part of it."
L'est was on his feet now, too, standing sideways to MacDonald in a Cobra ready stance. "The loyalty of an EarthScot or a fine dog," he sneered. "In case you haven't noticed, EarthScot, this Dominion you're so eager to please is treating you like dangerous garbage. It's thrown you just as far away as it possibly could, with a hundred fifty light-years and two hundred billion Trofts between you and civilization."
"We're needed here for the colonization effort," Jonny interjected, wanting to stand in MacDonald's support but afraid the action might be misinterpreted. In such close quarters an all-out fire fight between the two Cobras would probably be lethal to everyone in the room.
"That's donk dung, Moreau-we're here because it was cheaper than starting a new war just to kill us off," L'est ground out. "The Dominion doesn't care if we live or die out here. It's up to us to insure our own survival-no matter what sort of short-sighted fools get in our way."
"You coming, Jonny?" MacDonald asked, taking a step toward the door.
L'est took a step of his own, putting himself directly in front of the door.
"You're not leaving, MacDonald. You know too much."
"Take it easy, Simmon," Challinor said, his tone calm but with steel underlying it. "We're not giving these gentlemen a choice between joining us or death."
L'est didn't move. "You don't know this clown, Tors. He's a troublemaker."
"Yes, you told me that earlier. Cee-two MacDonald, please understand that we're not doing this simply for our own personal gain." Challinor's voice was pure sincerity. "The people of Aventine need strong, competent leadership, and they're not getting it. It's our duty to these people-these citizens of the
Dominion-to save them from disaster."
"If your friend over there doesn't get out of the way, I'm going to have to move him myself," MacDonald said.
Challinor sighed. "Simmon, step aside. MacDonald, will you at least think about what I've said?"
"Oh, I'll think about it all right." With his eyes still on L'est, MacDonald moved toward the door.
Carefully, his attention on the still-seated Patrusky and Szintra, Jonny got to his feet and followed. "If you'd like to stay, Moreau," Challinor called after him, "we can get you back to Ariel later."
"No, thanks," Jonny said, glancing back over his shoulder. "I have some work I need to finish up tonight."
"All right. But think about what I've said, all right?"
The words were friendly, but something in the tone made the hairs on Jonny's neck tingle. Suppressing a shiver, he got out fast.
The drive back to Ariel was quiet. Jonny, expecting MacDonald to be somewhere on the far side of furious, braced himself for a hair-raising ride on the bumpy road. To his surprise, though, MacDonald drove with a calmness that bordered on the sedate. But the backwash of the car's headlights showed clearly the tension in his jaw and around his eyes. Jonny took the cue and kept his mouth shut.
Lights were still showing in the Eldjarn house when MacDonald brought them to a stop across the street. Parked in front of them was the car Chrys's father had taken to Rankin; obviously, he'd arrived home too late to take it back to the village garage.
As before, Chrys answered the door. "Come on in," she invited, stepping to one side. "You're earlier than I expected-short meeting?"
"Too long," MacDonald growled.
Chrys's eyes took on a knowing look. "Uh-oh. What happened-Challinor want you to petition for more Cobras again?"
MacDonald shook his head. "Nothing so amusing. They want to take over the planet."
Chrys stopped in mid-stride. "They what?"
"You heard me. They want to overthrow the governor-general and set up a warlord system with little fiefdoms for all of the Cobras who join him."
Chrys looked at Jonny. "Is he kidding me, Jonny?" she asked.
Jonny shook his head. "No. Challinor's dead serious about it. I don't know how they hope to do anything but get themselves slagged, though-"
"Just a second," she interrupted, moving toward the door to the bedroom wing. "I think Dad had better hear this."
"Good idea," MacDonald grunted, stepping to the corner liquor cabinet and pouring himself a drink. Holding up the bottle, he looked questioningly at
Jonny, who shook his head.
A couple of minutes later Chrys was back, a dressing-gowned man in tow. "Ken;
Jonny," Dr. Orrin Eldjarn nodded to them, looking wide awake despite his sleep-tousled hair. "What's this about some kind of cabal being formed?"
They all sat down, the Eldjarns listening intently as MacDonald gave them a capsule summary of Challinor's proposal. "But as Jonny said," he concluded,
"there's just no way they can succeed. One Cobra's fighting strength is essentially the same as another's, after all."
"But orders of magnitude higher than anyone else's," Eldjarn commented. "If
Challinor announced he was taking over Thanksgiving, there's really nothing the people there could do to stop him."
"Surely there are a few other weapons there," Chrys argued. "We've got at least a half dozen pellet guns here in Ariel, and Thanksgiving's bigger than we are."
"Pellet guns would be essentially useless against a Cobra except in cramped quarters where he couldn't maneuver," Jonny told her. "The firing mechanism has a distinctive click that's loud enough for us to hear, and we'd normally have no trouble getting out of the line of fire. The Trofts on Silvern took forever to learn that lesson."
"But that's not the point," MacDonald said. "To kill twelve rebel Cobras, all it should take is twelve loyal Cobras."
"Unless the rebels manage to target all the others before the battle starts,"
Chrys suggested s
uddenly. "Couldn't they kill everyone in one quick volley if they did that?"
MacDonald shook his head. "The optical enhancers we've got now don't have the multiple targeting capability of our old ones. But okay-let's say it'll even take fifty Cobras if the rebels are dug in and you want an absolutely sure victory. That's still only a twelfth of Zhu's forces. Challinor has to know that."
"So the question is, what else does he know-that we don't." Eldjarn stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Anything happening elsewhere on Aventine that might be pinning down large numbers of Cobras? Civil unrest in one of the other districts or something?"
Jonny and MacDonald exchanged glances, and the latter shrugged. "Nothing we've heard of," he said. "I suppose it's conceivable that Challinor's organized groups in other towns for a simultaneous declaration, but I don't really believe it."
"The spine leopards are on the move again," Jonny suggested doubtfully. "That'll keep a lot of Cobras on patrolling and hunting duty unless the farmers went to stay out of their fields for a few days. I can't see that worrying the governor-general, though. Maybe Challinor's just lost his mind."
"Not Challinor." MacDonald was definite. "He's as sharp and level-headed as they come. And L'est wouldn't have come in on this on the strength of Challinor's sales talk alone, either-that one was a weasel even before we hit Aventine."
"I'm inclined to agree," Eldjarn said slowly. "The timing here is too good for megalomaniacs to have come up with. As you pointed out, Jonny, the spine leopard migration will hinder any official counter-measures, at least a little. Less coincidental, I'm sure, is the fact that the Dominion courier ship left
Capitalia just a few days ago, which means it'll be six months before anyone from the Dominion touches down here again."
"Plenty of time to consolidate a new regime," MacDonald growled. "They can present the courier with a fait accompli and dare Dome to do something."
"And the Dewdrop's out somewhere in deep space," Jonny said with a grimace.
"Right," Eldjarn nodded. "Until it gets back, there's no way for Zhu to get in touch with anyone-and even then, if the Dewdrop can't land somewhere secure for fuel and provisions, it won't be able to go for help. No, Challinor's thought this out carefully. It's a shame you couldn't have played along a little longer and found out the rest of his plan."
"I did what I could," MacDonald said, a bit stiffly. "I won't lie about my loyalty to anyone."
"Sure-I understand," Eldjarn said.
For a moment the room was silent. "I suppose I could go back to them," Jonny said hesitantly. "I never really stated where I stood."
"They'd be suspicious," MacDonald said, shaking his head. "And if they caught you passing information to us they'd treat you as a spy."
"Unless, of course," Chrys said quietly, "you want to go back."
Her father and MacDonald looked at her in surprise, but her gaze remained on
Jonny. "After all, we've been assuming Jonny was solidly on our side," she pointed out calmly. "Maybe he hasn't really made up his mind. This isn't a decision that we should be making for him."
Eldjarn nodded agreement. "You're right, of course. Well, Jonny? What do you say?"
Jonny pursed his lips. "To be completely honest, I don't know. I swore an oath of allegiance to the Dominion, too-but the government here really is doing some potentially disastrous things, especially the overextending of people and resources. What Challinor said about our duty being to the people of Aventine isn't something I can dismiss out of hand."
"But if the legal avenues for political change are ignored-by anyone-you open the way for total anarchy," MacDonald argued. "And if you really think Challinor and L'est would do a better job-"
"Ken." Chrys put a restraining hand on his arm. To Jonny, she said, "I understand your uncertainties, but I'm sure you realize this isn't an issue you'll be able to stay neutral on."
"And you'll need to make your decision soon," Eldjarn pointed out. "Challinor wouldn't have risked telling such a long-shot as Ken about the plot unless they were almost ready to move."
"I understand." Jonny got to his feet. "I think perhaps I'd better go home. If I decide to actively oppose Challinor you can always fill me in later on anything you come up with tonight. At any rate-" he met MacDonald's gaze firmly "-what's been said here already is between the four of us alone. Challinor won't hear any of it from me."
Slowly, MacDonald nodded. "All right. I guess that's all we can expect. You want a ride home?"
"No, thanks; I'll walk. Good night, all."
Like the farming communities Jonny had known on Horizon, Ariel generally closed down fairly early in the evening. The streets were dark and deserted, with the only illumination coming from occasional streetlights and the brilliant stars overhead. Usually, Jonny liked looking at the stars whenever he was out this late; tonight, he hardly noticed they were there.
There had been a time, he thought wryly, when simply gazing into Chrys's eyes would have immediately brought him back onto her side, no matter what the cause or topic at issue. But that time lay far in his past. The war, his failed attempts to reenter mainstream society afterwards, and seven long years of working to build a new world had all taken their toll on the rashness of youth.
He had long ago learned not to base his decisions on emotional reasoning.
The trouble was that, at the moment, he didn't have a terrific number of facts on which to base an intelligent decision. So far everything pointed to a quick defeat for Challinor's group... but there had to be more to it than the obvious.
Whatever his other irritating characteristics, Simmon L'est was an excellent tactician, his father having been an Army training instructor on Asgard. He wouldn't join any venture that was obviously doomed-and a long, bloody war would be disastrous for the colony.
On the other hand, Jonny's allegiance was technically to the government of the
Dominion and, by extension, to Aventine's governor-general. And despite L'est's sneers, MacDonald's sense of loyalty had always been something Jonny admired.
His brain was still doing flip-flops when he reached home. The usual bedtime preparations took only a few minutes; then, turning off the light, he got into bed and closed his eyes. Perhaps by morning things would be clearer.
But he was far too keyed up to sleep. Finally, after an hour of restlessly changing positions, he went to his desk and dug out the tape from his family that had come with the last courier. Putting it on the player, he adjusted the machine for sound only and crawled back into bed, hoping the familiar voices would help him relax.
He was drifting comfortably toward sleep when a part of his sister's monologue seemed to pry itself under a corner of his consciousness. "...I've been accepted at the University of Aerie," Gwen's playful voice was saying. "It means finishing my schooling away from Horizon, but they've got the best geology program in this part of the Dominion and offer a sub-major in tectonic utilization. I figure having credentials like that's my best chance of getting accepted as a colonist to Aventine. I hope you'll have enough pull out there by the time I graduate to get me assigned to Ariel-I'm not just coming out there to see what the backside of the Troft Empire looks like, you know. Though Jame ought to be able to pull any strings from Asgard by then, too, come to think of it. Speaking of the Trofts, there was a sort of informal free-for-all debate in the hall at school the other day on whether the Aventine project was really just an Army plot to outflank the Trofts so that they wouldn't try to attack us again. I think I held up our end pretty well-the stats you sent on the output of the Kerseage Mines were of enormous help-but I'm afraid I've ruined any chance I might ever have had of passing myself off as demure or ladylike. I hope there's no ban on letting in rowdies out there...."
Getting up, Jonny switched the player off... and by the time he got back into bed he knew what his decision had to be. Gwen's cheerful tapes to him, full of confidence and borderline hero worship, had helped him over the roughest times out here in a way that the quieter
support of his parents and Jame hadn't been able to duplicate. To willingly take on the label of traitor-especially when the situation was by no means desperate yet-would be a betrayal of both Gwen's pride and his family's trust. And that was something he would never willingly do.
For a moment he considered calling MacDonald to tell the other of his decision... but the bed felt more and more comfortable as the tension began to leave him. Besides, it was getting late. Morning would be soon enough to join the loyalist cause.
Five minutes later, he was sound asleep.