Cobra Guardian: Cobra War: Book Two

by Timothy Zahn

  "So they spot us," Lorne said impatiently. "So what?"

  "So remember why they created all these spine leopard-infested areas in the first place," Treakness said. "Do you really think the Troft who spots a crowd that size will assume all those people simultaneously decided to make a break for it on their own?"

  Lorne frowned. "I don't understand."

  "He's saying one family might be crazy enough to do something like this without a Cobra escort," Poole said quietly. "But not five or six or ten of them."

  "I'll decide what I'm saying, if you don't mind," Treakness growled, glaring briefly at his aide. "But in this case, Broom, he's right. If the Trofts spot the kind of train you're talking about, they're going to damn well know there's a Cobra in there with them. And if the train attracts a spine leopard and you have to kill it, they'll even know which one of us you are."

  Lorne grimaced. He was right, of course. On all of it. "I suppose," he said reluctantly.

  "Glad you agree," Treakness said acidly. "Now, let's focus on the topic at hand: getting Mr. Koshevski's family out so we can get back on our way."

  "That way ultimately being to Crystal Lake," Koshevski put in, tapping his brother on the arm, "which we still haven't quite figured out. I can get him to Ridgeline, but I'm stuck on how to get him past that. You have any ideas?"

  "There's a bunch of warehousing and light industry just west of there," the younger Koshevski said doubtfully. "Plenty of cover. But getting them that far will be tricky . . ."

  Lorne moved away from the discussion, his mind still snarled in frustration, and crossed to the room's wide, north-facing window. Directly below him was the street they'd just come in from, lined on the other side by apartment buildings. Through the small gaps between the buildings, he could see that the block was a narrow one, and that the buildings there went straight through to face onto the next street. One more street after that, according to Treakness, and they would reach one of the buildings facing into the Trofts' fenced-in safety zone.

  Even that short a journey through spiny territory would be dangerous for a group of civilians. With a Cobra along, though, it would be nearly as safe as a walk through Calay Park.

  But surely the Trofts knew that, he realized suddenly. In fact, wouldn't their automatic assumption be that any group, of any size, would only venture out under Cobra protection?

  In which case, Treakness's argument for limiting the break to Koshevski's family was exactly backwards. A smaller group would merely make it easier for the Trofts to intercept and corral them, and probably ferret out Treakness's identity along with it. What they actually needed was as large a group as feasible, a mob that Treakness could more easily lose himself in.

  And if they could throw a little extra confusion and chaos into the mix . . .

  He leaned close to the window and looked as far as he could to both sides. Due west, seven or eight blocks away, was another of the Trofts' narrow warships, towering over the buildings immediately around it. To the northeast, another of the ships was visible, this one probably ten blocks away. The first ship was pointing south, the second east, but with their main weaponry mounted on swivels on the fore and aft wings, the alignment of the ships themselves was mostly irrelevant. Any trouble here, and both ships' arsenals would be locked onto him in seconds.

  Or rather, they would be if he was four stories up, the way he was right now. At street level, the weapons would be blocked by the neighborhood's other buildings.

  Would the Trofts be willing to destroy one or more of those buildings just to get at a Cobra they knew was lurking behind it? Lorne had no way of knowing for sure, but at this point it was probably a fair assumption that they wouldn't. The invasion was less than half a day old, and as far as he knew the Cobras hadn't yet started making a nuisance of themselves. The Trofts could probably afford to wait for easier pickings, and save the escalation to scorched-ground level until they needed it.

  Still, with a little careful nudging, Lorne could probably persuade them to add the extra confusion of gunfire to the plan that was rapidly forming in his mind.

  The only trick then would be living through it.

  The conversation behind him had switched to Sunset Avenue and roadside culverts when he took a deep breath and turned around to face them. "I can do it," he announced.

  The discussion broke off in mid-sentence. "You can do what?" Treakness asked suspiciously.

  Lorne looked over the governor's shoulder and gestured to Nissa. "Tell the people out there they have five minutes to get ready," he said. "One backpack or less per person, and light enough that they can run with it for three blocks if they have to."

  "Gendreves, don't move," Treakness ordered. "Broom, in case you've forgotten, we've already decided we're not taking a crowd."

  "No, you decided we weren't taking a crowd," Lorne said. "And you were wrong. Nissa told me the Trofts are looking for you. You really think you'll be able to lose yourself in a group of ten people?"

  "They have to spot us first," Treakness countered. "A group of forty will make that discovery inevitable."

  "They're going to spot us no matter how many of us there are," Lorne said. "The trick is going to be to create so much confusion that we can slip into whatever group of civilians is on the other side of the fence before they can rope us all in and take us somewhere for a detailed look."

  "And you think you can create that much confusion?"

  "Yes," Lorne said flatly. "One way or another, I'll get us through."

  "You'd bet your life on that?"

  "I fully intend to."

  For a long moment Treakness studied him. "I'll take that bet." He turned and nodded to Nissa. "Go ahead and tell them." He held up his hand, fingers splayed. "Five minutes."

  Four minutes and thirty seconds later, Lorne, Treakness, and Poole were standing just inside the door they'd entered half an hour earlier, a long line of nervous civilians behind them. "What's your plan?" Treakness murmured as they peered outside.

  "We start by getting across this street," Lorne said, leaning forward to look up and down the street. "Should be safe enough--I've killed the spiny who'd staked out this particular territory, and none of the others should have noticed it's empty and moved in yet. We'll head straight across to that apartment building over there, burn off the lock if necessary, and go through. Since the buildings over there face directly onto the next street, we won't have to worry about getting past any spine leopards that might be lurking in a back area or courtyard."

  "But they'll be waiting for us in the street itself?"

  "Probably," Lorne conceded. "And the next street will be even worse. From the level of crowd noise I heard when we first arrived, I'm guessing there are a lot of people out in the streets inside the Troft barriers."

  Treakness grunted. "Yes, I heard it, too. They're probably mobbing the stores, panic-buying food and other supplies."

  "The point is that a high concentration of potential prey always draws large numbers of spinies," Lorne said. "That's because it shrinks the viable territories--"

  "The technical reasons aren't important," Treakness cut him off. "The point, it seems to me, is that next to the fence is also where the Trofts are most likely to see you kill one of them."

  "True," Lorne said. "But I think I can turn that attention away from you and the others and give you a chance to melt into the rest of the crowds across the fence."

  "By drawing all that attention onto you?" Poole asked.

  "Hopefully, not for long." Lorne looked over his shoulder. "Nissa?" he called.

  "We're ready," her voice called faintly back.

  "Okay," Lorne called, grimacing as he turned to the door again. He hadn't wanted to put Nissa in the rear of the group this way, but Treakness had insisted that one of their party be back there to guard against stragglers, stating that if they were going to do this they were going to do it right. Since Lorne and Treakness needed to be in front to lead, and since Treakness had made it clear he didn't
trust Poole not to botch the job, the task had fallen to Nissa.

  At least Koshevski and his brother would be back there with her to help in case of trouble. Both men had insisted on taking that much of the risk on themselves. "Everyone stay close together," Lorne called. "Here we go." Pulling open the door, he strode out into the late morning sunlight, Treakness and Poole right behind him.

  He'd expected the group to get across the street without difficulty, and he was right. What he hadn't anticipated was that some of the target building's residents had spotted the exit from the storm drain system, including the obvious fact that Lorne was a Cobra, and that the word had spread quickly enough for them all to be prepared to join in the mass escape.

  "Was this part of the plan, too?" Treakness grumbled to Lorne after the group waiting in the lower lobby area had made their request.

  "You're the one who suggested we bring the whole neighborhood," Lorne reminded him. "Anybody been keeping tabs on the street to the north?"

  "I have," one of the residents spoke up. "There are at least two spine leopards out there."

  "One of them killed and ate a squintal from one of the trees," someone else offered. "Will that make it less hungry?"

  "A little," Lorne said. "Not enough. Is the building straight across another apartment building?"

  "No, that one's all commercial," the first person said. "A two-story restaurant downstairs, a couple of attorneys' offices upstairs. There's an apartment building just to the west of it, but its street door is usually locked."

  "That won't be a problem," Treakness said.

  "But we could get in faster and more conveniently if I didn't have to burn it," Lorne said, thinking hard. "Okay. I'm going to need a large piece of paper, or several small ones, and a big marker. And a second- or third-floor apartment that faces that building."

  "I've got all of that in my place," a young woman spoke up. "I'll take you up."

  "What do you want the rest of us to do?" Treakness asked.

  "Just stay here," Lorne told him. "I'll be back in a minute."

  The woman's apartment was small and crammed full of travel souvenirs and mementos from all over Aventine. "I teach a children's art class," she explained as she pulled a roll of banner paper and a marker from one of the shelves. "They like to draw murals. Are you stationed here in Capitalia?"

  "DeVegas Province," Lorne told her as he opened the marker and began to write on the paper in large letters.

  "Ah--Archway," she said, nodding. "I visited there once. The Braided Falls area to the north is beautiful."

  "They're hoping to turn that into a resort someday," Lorne said. "Do you know how the next couple of blocks to the north are laid out? Supposedly, we've got just one more street to go before we hit one of the Trofts' safe zones."

  "That's right," the woman said. "I was up on the roof earlier for a look. Twentieth Street is all fenced off with some kind of tall mesh."

  "That's the safe zone, all right," Lorne said. "Tell me all about it."

  "I'll make you a sketch," the woman said, tearing another small sheet off the roll and picking up a pen.

  By the time Lorne finished writing his message she was done. "Okay, we're here," she said, pointing to a square bordering one of the streets. "That apartment building, plus the one next to it and the two behind it, are part of a four-building complex with this play/gathering area in the middle."

  "What does the gathering area look like?" Lorne asked. "Grass and play structures?"

  "Over here, yes," the woman said, touching the western part of the open area. "This side has trees and a walking garden."

  Lorne grimaced. Which undoubtedly was hosting a spine leopard or two at the moment. "Okay, so we get through the garden and past or through the next building north," he said. "What's this big building across the street?"

  "That's Hendrezon's of Westport," the woman said. "It's the biggest store in the area--covers that whole half block, right through to Twentieth."

  Which meant that going in from their side of the building would lead the refugee group straight into the fenced-in safe zone. "And it has a door on this side?"

  "It has three of them," the woman said, adding their locations to her sketch. "Though under the circumstances, the ones on this side are probably locked."

  "As Governor Treakness said, locks are the least of our problems," Lorne said. "Okay, looks like we've got a plan." He gestured to his own paper. "What do you think? Will it be legible from across the street?"

  " ‘Need to get through,' " the woman read aloud. " ‘Please unlock front door.' Should be clear enough. If someone sees it."

  "Someone will," Lorne promised, gathering up the paper. "Go open that window over there, will you?"

  The woman complied, and Lorne stepped up beside her, centering himself in the open section and handing her one end of his banner. Keying his opticals to a medium telescopic setting, he focused on one of the other building's windows and fired a low-power burst from his sonic.

  The window he was watching didn't even quiver. He notched up the power setting and tried again. Still nothing. "What are you doing?" the woman asked.

  "Trying to get their attention," Lorne told her. He notched up the weapon and fired again.

  This time, he saw the glass vibrate a little. He keyed the sonic up one final notch and lowered his opticals' enhancement back to normal. "Help me watch the windows," he told the woman. "Let me know when you spot someone." Trying to watch the whole side of the building at once, he fired three short bursts.

  Nothing happened. He fired the triple burst again, then again, then again. Vibrating windows were a fairly subtle signal, he knew, but they were perfectly noticeable to anyone paying even a modicum of attention to their surroundings. Certainly anyone who'd spent any time in the expansion regions would know that vibrating windows were often an indication that Cobras were tackling spine leopards nearby.

  "There!" the woman said suddenly. "Top floor, second in from the right."

  Lorne found the window. An old man was standing there, peering down at the street. A moment later, a younger man joined him, also scanning the area below. Lorne gave another triple burst with his sonic, and this time the young man looked up. His body seemed to twitch, and he tapped the back of his hand against the older man's arm and pointed at Lorne's sign.

  The other looked up, too, and for a long moment both of them just stood there, staring. Lorne pointed at the sign, then lifted his hands in silent question.

  The younger man said something inaudible, his eyes still on the sign. The older answered, glancing at his friend and then looking back at the sign. The younger man said something else--

  "They're going to betray you," the woman beside Lorne said suddenly. "They're talking about it right now."

  Lorne frowned. "What makes you say that? Do you know them?"

  "No, but I know that look," she said. "They heard the Trofts' offer, and they're going for it. They're just trying to figure out how to collect."

  Chapter Eight

  Lorne stared across the street at the two men, a cold feeling knotting itself into the pit of his stomach. If they'd been in DeVegas Province he would have told the woman she was imagining things. The people out there would never betray their guardians, no matter how much the Trofts offered them.

  But they were in the city now. Here, Cobras weren't associated with safety, but with dress uniforms and governmental pomp and ceremony. And no one here had ever seen a spine leopard, much less had any idea of how to deal with it.

  No, he realized, the Trofts had figured the psychology of the situation perfectly. For way too many people, the chance to escape deadly danger at the cost of someone they didn't even know would be an easy decision to make. Especially when they could rationalize it by telling themselves they were doing it for their children, or spouse, or parents.

  "What are you going to do?" the woman asked.

  "Not much I can do except keep going," Lorne told her. "I was already planning to
make as much noise and chaos as I could anyway, to try to get you all through the store and into the crowds on the other side before the Trofts could identify you and gather you together for a closer look. Now, I'll just have to make sure that wherever I finish up at the end of that is far enough away that it'll be hard for anyone in our group to point me out."

  "Sounds dangerous."

  Lorne shrugged. "The original plan wasn't going to be a whole lot safer."

  Across the street, the two men finished their conversation. The younger caught Lorne's eye, pointed to the message in the window, and gave a thumb's-up. He touched the older man's arm, and together they left their window.

  "I guess we're on," Lorne said, gathering up the banner and folding it up.

  "You're still going to go through with it?" the woman asked.

  "It's either that, or we give up and settle down here," he pointed out. "Let's take another look at that map of yours."

  They stepped over to her schematic of the street. "Okay, so this is Hendrezon's," Lorne said, indicating the long building. "How tall is it?"

  "Four stories," the woman said.

  "What about the buildings on either side?"

  "The one to the east is--let's see--I think it's five stories," she said. "The one across Mitterly Street to the west is four, the same as Hendrezon's."

  "What about the two to the west of that?" Lorne asked.

  "The first is also four stories, and the next one is three," she said slowly. "I think. Yes, it's three."

  "Are all three of the buildings on that block connected to each other?"

  "No, there are service alleys separating them," she said. "Not very wide, maybe one normal street lane each."

  "And the other side of that third building runs up to Ellis Avenue," Lorne said slowly, trying to visualize the area and fit the terrain into the modified plan forming in his mind. It would be tight, but it should work. "We'd better get downstairs now, before they wonder if we got lost." He turned and headed for the door.