Cobra Guardian: Cobra War: Book Two

by Timothy Zahn

  "Actually, it's a hundred and twelve," Croi said. "How would you like to have had it all done in five days, and only forty hours on the table?"

  "Not possible," Lorne said flatly. "They're tricky operations. Even experienced surgeons like those at the academy hospital can only work so fast."

  "Agreed," Croi said. "But that assumes human beings doing the surgery."

  Beside Lorne, Nissa inhaled sharply. "Isis," she breathed.

  "What?" Lorne asked, frowning again.

  "It was a reference in one of Governor-General Chintawa's reports," she said, staring wide-eyed at Croi. "It's an acronym for Integrated Structural Implantation System."

  Lorne looked back at Croi, a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. "What exactly are you saying?"

  "What I'm saying is that we're sitting on a huge technological breakthrough," Croi said quietly. He gestured past the circle of Trofts toward the freighter's stern. "Back there, tucked away in a hundred packing crates, is our brand-new prototype, Isis.

  "The world's first fully automated Cobra factory."

  Chapter Fourteen

  For a long moment no one spoke. Lorne looked at Croi, then at Nissa, then at Warrior, then back at Croi. "You're not serious," he said at last.

  "Deadly serious," Croi assured him grimly. "And you see now why it was vital that we get it off Aventine before the invaders caught wind of it. All of our Cobra equipment and weaponry, with no fail-safes or self-destructs in place, just waiting for someone to come along and take it apart until they learn everything about it and every single way to defeat you."

  "Right," Lorne said, looking back at the circle of armed Trofts and putting a targeting lock on each of the aliens' foreheads. A probably useless gesture--an heir's ship would be teeming with Tlossie soldiers--but if this whole thing fell apart he would have to at least try. "No, we wouldn't want the Trofts getting hold of the stuff, would we?"

  Croi snorted. "Relax, Broom. The reason Isis is aboard this ship is that Ingidi-inhiliziyo helped develop it."

  "He what?" Lorne demanded. "Who authorized that?"

  "I said relax," Croi said, starting to sound annoyed. "He hasn't been allowed to see or study any of the actual equipment. He just helped me create the robotics systems that Isis uses to implant it."

  "He helped you," Lorne said catching the pronoun's significance. "So you're a robotics expert, too?"

  "Hardly, though I do dabble a little," Croi said. "I'm actually a surgeon by training, which meant our areas of expertise intersected quite well."

  "Handy when that happens," Lorne said, eyeing Warrior. [Your robotics expertise, it impresses me.]

  [Surprises you, it in fact does,] Warrior corrected calmly. [Yet surprised, you should not be. A useless parasite, an heir is not one.]

  [The truth, so it would seem,] Lorne said, turning back to Croi. "So that's the what. Let's hear the why."

  "You mean why create Isis in the first place?" Croi asked. "Actually--and you're going to laugh--it was Governor Treakness's idea."

  Lorne raised his eyebrows. "Treakness?"

  "Governor Tomo Treakness of the loud rants against the whole Cobra project," Croi confirmed. "Now suggesting a new project costing even more money, at least at the outset. Ironic, isn't it?"

  "I imagine he feels a bit differently about the Cobras now," Lorne murmured.

  "Knowing the governor, I wouldn't bet on it," Croi said. "Regardless, Isis was an idea he and Governor Ellen Hoffman cooked up between them a few months ago. The prototype was supposed to be unveiled with all due pomp and ceremony sometime in the next day or two, then shipped out to Donyang Province for its trial run. The ultimate goal was to scatter these things all around the expansion areas and new worlds, where they would not only save costs but would also shift the center of Cobra operations completely away from Capitalia and putting them where most of the actual needs are."

  "And where most of the recruits are coming from, anyway," Lorne said, a stray memory suddenly clicking. "Was that the ceremony Chintawa wanted my mother to come into town for?"

  "Exactly," Croi said, nodding. "You know how politicians think: the woman who redefined the Cobra profile thirty years ago, on hand to offer a send-off to the next stage of Cobra redefinition, and all that."

  Lorne grimaced. Except that no one in the Dome had allowed his mother's redefinition of the Cobra profile to stick, and moreover had actively concealed what she'd actually done for the Cobra Worlds. She would have been little more than a figurehead at Chintawa's big show, someone to extol and ignore at the same time. "Well, we're for sure not going to Donyang now," he said. "So what's the new plan?"

  Croi's cheek twitched. "There's currently a lack of agreement on that point," he said. "Ingidi-inhiliziyo wants to head straight back to his demesne and bury Isis as fast and as deeply as possible."

  "Really," Lorne said, flicking a target lock onto Warrior as well.

  "Yes, really," Croi said. "And before you start leaping to paranoid conclusions again, Cobra gear won't work on Trofts. Their bone structure, the way their ligaments work and are attached, even the available body cavities--just trust me, they can't use the gear. Neither can any other Trofts."

  [Yet as a way to destroy the Tlos'khin'fahi Demesne, it would serve well,] Warrior put in grimly. Behind him, the door leading to the control areas opened and another Troft strode quickly in and stepped to Warrior's side.

  "What do you mean?" Lorne asked.

  Warrior didn't answer, his full attention clearly on the newcomer murmuring in his ear. Lorne notched up his audios-- [is here,] he caught the tail end of the Troft's words. [In person, do you wish to speak?]

  [In person, I will,] Warrior agreed, his voice tight. Without even a glance at the three humans, he and the other Troft turned and walked quickly from the vestibule.

  Lorne looked back at the ring of silent Troft soldiers, their weapons still pointed at the ceiling, then turned back to Croi. "Fine," he said. "I'll ask you, then. What did Warrior mean about someone using Isis to destroy the Tlossies?"

  "Because its very existence is proof they collaborated with us," Croi said, frowning for a moment at the door where Warrior had disappeared. "In the past, their trading relationship with us has been a pretty good thing, for both sides. At the moment, though, all the political pressure is going the other direction."

  "So I noticed," Lorne said. "Okay, Warrior wants to bury the project. What do you want to do with it?"

  "Use it, of course," Croi said. "I think we should take Isis to Esquiline or Viminal, make a whole bunch of Cobras as fast as we can, then bring them back here to Aventine."

  Nissa stirred. "You assume the Trofts haven't already landed on those worlds," she said, her voice limp with fatigue.

  "You also assume you'll be able to convince enough psychologically qualified people to go under your robotic knife, knowing they're going to be thrown immediately into a war," Lorne added. "That may be harder than you think."

  "The Dominion of Man had no trouble finding recruits a hundred years ago in their war with the Trofts," Croi pointed out.

  Lorne shook his head. "Unfair comparison," he said. "The Dominion of Man had seventy worlds to draw from. We have five. And that still ignores Nissa's point that if the invaders have any brains at all they already have troops on all our worlds."

  "I guess that's just something we're going to have to risk, isn't it?" Croi growled. "You have a better idea?"

  A wave of sudden tiredness washed over Lorne's mind. "I can't even think five minutes ahead right now," he conceded.

  Croi took a deep breath. "You're right, of course," he said. He took another breath and gestured to the soldiers. "Is there some place we can go and rest for a while? Maybe clean up a little, too?"

  One of the Trofts gestured toward the door leading aft. [A place, it has been prepared for you,] he said. [Though the place, it was designed for three males.]

  Lorne looked at Nissa. "It's all right," she said. "We'll manage." Gathering
herself, she climbed to her feet.

  "Fine," Croi said, doing likewise. He started to stumble, nodded his thanks as Lorne reached out a hand and steadied him.

  They had all turned toward the aft door when Lorne heard the forward door open behind them. He looked over his shoulder to see the Troft who'd brought Warrior his mysterious message reenter the vestibule, his radiator membranes quivering with tension. [Your presence, Cobra Broom, the heir requests it,] he said.

  A shiver ran up Lorne's back. Had the invaders spotted the surreptitious passenger pickup at Creeksedge and sent word ahead to stop the Tlossies? "Go ahead," he told Croi and Nissa. "I'll be there in a minute."

  The Troft led him through a prep room, a narrow monitor and engineering station, and through a final door onto the bridge. Warrior was standing in the center of the room, gazing at a wraparound display showing the full three-hundred-sixty-degree view around them.

  Lorne looked over his shoulder as he crossed the room to Warrior's side, grimacing as he spotted the ring of ships running a slow orbit above Aventine's equator. Not only did the invaders already have massive firepower on the ground, but they had extra backup waiting in the sky. Even if Croi was able to find enough recruits on Esquiline or Viminal, he would have the devil's own time getting them back onto Aventinian soil again.

  [The approaching ship, do you see it?] Warrior asked.

  Lorne shifted his attention forward. There was a flashing red ring superimposed on the image of a transport approaching from deep space. [The ship, I do,] Lorne confirmed. [The invaders, it is one of theirs?]

  [The invaders, it is one of theirs,] Warrior confirmed. [Yet its occupants, Trofts they are not. Its occupants, humans they are.]

  Lorne felt a sudden leap of hope. Had someone on Palatine or one of the smaller worlds managed to defeat the invaders, or at least push them back long enough to steal one of their transports?

  And then, like a splash of cold water, the more likely explanation hit him. [Qasamans, they are?] he asked.

  [Qasamans, they would appear to be,] Warrior confirmed.

  Lorne took a deep breath. Croi had called it, all right, back when the two of them were dumping the dead spine leopard at Koshevski's brother's building. The invading Trofts and Qasamans had struck a deal, and the Qasamans were here to gloat. Or possibly to survey their new real estate. [Avoid them, we must,] he told Warrior urgently. [Your passengers, they must not identify us.]

  [My passengers, they will not,] Warrior assured him. [Our sensors, far more advanced they are.]

  Which made sense, Lorne realized. An heir's ship would have upgrades on pretty much everything, including the sensor array. [Avoid them, we must still do it,] he said.

  [Speak with them, I must.] Warrior threw Lorne a stern look. [Silence, you will maintain it.]

  [Silence, I will maintain it,] Lorne promised.

  Warrior gestured to one of the Trofts, and a green circle appeared around the red-circled transport. Apparently, Warrior had decided to use a tight beam for his hail.

  The seconds ticked by. Lorne looked around the other sections of the wraparound, noting the dozen or more transports moving inward toward Aventine. The second wave of Troft soldiers?

  [The signal, it is acknowledged,] a voice came from the speaker. A woman's voice, Lorne decided, assuming Warrior had been right about the occupants being humans. Her cattertalk was far crisper and better enunciated than his, too, he noted with grudging admiration. [Assistance, how may we render it?]

  [Your cargo bay, analysis shows it to be empty,] Warrior replied. [The predators, why have you none?]

  Lorne grimaced. So it wasn't soldiers the transports were bringing in, but more spine leopards. Terrific.

  [The predators, all died en route,] the woman in the transport said. [A disease, it was apparently brought aboard.]

  [The message, it is understood.] Warrior hesitated, flashing an unreadable look at Lorne. [Jasmine Jin Moreau, is there word from her?]

  Lorne felt his breath catch in his throat. How in space had Warrior known that his mother had gone to Qasama? He started to ask that question, stopped as Warrior lifted a warning hand. [Jasmine Jin Moreau, is there word from her?] he repeated.

  And then, to Lorne's utter astonishment, a familiar, achingly missed voice came on. [Jasmine Jin Moreau, it is I.]

  Again, Warrior lifted a warning hand. But this time, Lorne didn't have to be reminded to keep quiet. Whatever was going on over there, he had no intention of letting the occupants know that Jin Broom's son was listening in on the conversation. [The news from Qasama, what is it?] Warrior asked.

  [The battle, it has been won,] Jin said, her voice cautious.

  [Yet the war, it has been lost?] Warrior asked.

  [The war, it is not yet over,] Jin corrected.

  For a moment Warrior didn't speak. Lorne studied his face, sifting through his limited knowledge of Troft facial expressions and trying to figure out what the other was thinking and feeling. He was disturbed, certainly. That much was clear. But disturbed about what?

  Warrior's radiator membranes fluttered. [Then our mission, it has failed,] he said, his voice tight and sad.

  [Your pardon, I crave it,] Jin said. [Your mission, what is its purpose and meaning?]

  Warrior looked at Lorne. [The mission, it is of no matter,] he said. [Its failure, that is all I need know.]

  [The message, from you it came,] Jin said, her tone changing as if with a sudden revelation. [To Qasama, you wished me to go.]

  Lorne felt a jolt run through him as the whole thing suddenly fell into place. The mysterious and unsigned note that had sent Jin and Merrick to Qasama in the first place--the collaboration with Treakness--Warrior taking the risk of staying put on Aventine through the initial stage of the invasion in hopes of getting Croi and Isis off the planet. "You knew this was coming," he murmured, just loud enough for Warrior to hear. "You knew we were about to be invaded."

  The other didn't reply. But the fluttering of his radiator membranes was all the answer Lorne needed.

  [Your mission, I understand it now,] Jin's voice came again. [War with Aventine, your demesne-lord does not wish. Yet a stand against the attacking demesnes, he dare not take alone. A victory against them, one must first exist.]

  [The truth, you speak it,] Warrior said. [A stand, other demesne-lords wish to make. But a stand against a victorious army, one cannot be made.]

  [The reality, I understand it,] Jin said, her voice grim. [But hope, do not abandon it.]

  Warrior looked at Lorne. [Understand, do you now?] he murmured.

  Lorne inclined his head, hoping that would be taken as an assent. Certainly he understood what Warrior was attempting to imply about the situation and the Tlossies' involvement in it.

  But there was another, darker possibility that made just as snug a fit around Lorne's limited collection of facts: the possibility that the Tlossies were in fact in league with the invaders. That they'd waited for Croi and Lorne, not to heroically smuggle them off Aventine, but so that they could deliver both Isis and its co-creator in a single, neatly-wrapped package. That they'd deliberately sent Jin and Merrick into a trap on Qasama, and that Lorne's mother was even now a prisoner on that transport.

  But Lorne wasn't going to bring up any of those possibilities. Not until he had a better idea what part the Tlossies were playing in this drama. Certainly not here on the freighter's bridge, on ground of Warrior's choosing.

  [Refueling, our transport needs,] Jin said into Lorne's musings. [Extra fuel, can you supply it?]

  Warrior's membranes fluttered again. [To return to Qasama, enough exists,] he pointed out warily.

  [The truth, you speak it,] Jin agreed. [But Qasama, we do not yet return there. Extra fuel, can you supply it?]

  [This fuel, to what use?] Warrior asked.

  [Victory against the attacking demesne-lords, its use will be,] Jin said, and in his mind's eye Lorne could see a dark, tight smile on her face.

  Warrior gestured, and the gre
en circle around the distant transport began fluttering as the Troft at the communications board muted the transmitter. [Her purpose, what is it?] he asked Lorne.

  [Her purpose, you heard it,] Lorne said, gesturing toward the comm board. [Victory against the invaders, she intends.]

  [Such a purpose, she cannot possibly carry it out,] Warrior protested.

  [Such a purpose, perhaps she cannot,] Lorne agreed. [But such a purpose, perhaps she can. My mother, others also have underestimated.]

  Warrior looked back at the display . . . and as he gazed at the Troft's profile, Lorne suddenly realized how ridiculous his earlier suspicions had been. Of course the Tlossies weren't in league with the invaders. If they were, why go to all the trouble of running from Creeksedge instead of simply letting Lorne and Croi come aboard, gassing them in the airlock vestibule, and handing them over to their allies right there and then?

  And why send Jin and Merrick to Qasama at all, where something unknown but obviously extremely interesting had apparently taken place?

  Because his mother wasn't a prisoner aboard that transport, Lorne knew now. Even if the Qasamans had somehow been able to capture and restrain her, there was no way they could restrain her voice. Lorne had been analyzing his family's speech patterns all his life, and the tension level he'd heard in her voice had dropped when she figured out that Warrior was on the Cobra Worlds' side. That wouldn't have happened if she was a prisoner.

  Warrior himself, though, was still staring at the transport's image, his expression still uncertain. Perhaps he was thinking through the stories of the young Jin Moreau's exploits on Qasama thirty years ago. Perhaps he was contemplating the ramifications of the older Jin Moreau Broom's presence aboard an enemy transport with a group of Qasamans.

  Perhaps he simply knew he had no other choice but to hold onto hope.

  He gestured again, and the green circle steadied. [Your course, you will hold it,] he told the transport. [To your side, we will come.]

  [Our gratitude, you have it,] Jin said. [Your arrival, we will await it.]

  Warrior gestured one final time, and the green transmission circle vanished. [The transport, journey to it,] he ordered. [A fuel download, prepare it.]