Cobra Guardian: Cobra War: Book Two

by Timothy Zahn

  * * *

  With the remnants of her long day and short night having made for an early bedtime, Jody had woken up an hour before dawn, with a fresh plan of action for the day. Her father had told her during that last contact that he would be sending her information that she was in turn to leak to the listening Trofts. Jody had spent much of the previous day wondering how exactly she would do that without it looking like she was deliberately feeding it to them.

  Now, with ten straight hours of sleep having finally cleared the dust and cobwebs from her brain, she'd figured out a plan. After all, an information slip would seem much more reasonable if the aliens thought she thought the governor's residence was no longer being monitored.

  And so, with the rest of the household still asleep, she set about examining every square centimeter of the residence's public areas, searching for, finding, and destroying every hidden camera and buried microphone that the invaders had surreptitiously planted.

  All of them . . . except one.

  By the time Uy and his wife Elssa emerged from their room, she was able to report her success and give them a carefully edited version of what she and her father had discussed earlier from her guest room vantage point.

  By the time the morning's message finally came through, Uy, Elssa, Freylan, and--hopefully--the listening Trofts were all ready and eager to hear it.

  "It turns out your son didn't tell us everything when we were with him two nights ago," she told the group assembled in the living room. "The Cobras from Essbend hadn't shown up yet because they were working on something special to use against the Trofts. Apparently, they've finished it and are now on their way."

  "Are we talking about a plan, or a device, or what?" Elssa asked. "I'm worried about the people of Stronghold."

  "The biggest worry they have is regaining their freedom," Uy reminded her firmly. "Whatever Essbend's come up with, it's worth the risk to try it."

  "Dad didn't say what exactly it is, Mrs. Uy," Jody said. "But from everything else we've seen on Caelian, I'm willing to bet it's going to be spectacular."

  "I wonder which of the ships they'll target," Freylan mused, craning his neck to look out the window at the Troft warship looming against the forest backdrop to the north. "Be just our luck if they take out the south one and we don't get to watch."

  "Well, you've got a fifty-fifty chance," Jody reminded him as she stood up. "Enjoy. Me, I need to get back in case they need to send us something else. I just wanted you all to have a heads-up."

  "We appreciate that," Uy said, the crinkly lines around his eyes telling Jody that he was fully aware of the part he and the others were playing in her disinformation scheme. "Let me know if there's anything else they need me to do."

  "I will," Jody said, and left the room.

  And that was that, she thought, permitting herself a small smile as she once again settled herself and her notepad by the guest room window. If the Trofts had even a shred of military competence, not to mention a flicker of curiosity, they would be readying one or more of their drones to take to the air and head toward Essbend for a look at the Cobras' mysterious superweapon.

  And when they did, they would be in for a surprise. Hopefully, a very loud, very violent surprise.

  * * *

  "That's it," Lorne said, nodding ahead at the dark planetary curve stretching out across much of the Tlossie freighter's wraparound display. "That's Caelian."

  [A place of lush greenery, it is,] Warrior commented from beside him. [A peaceful place, it appears from the sky.]

  [A peaceful appearance, it is a lie,] Lorne told him, gazing at the thin blur of atmosphere at the edge of the dark disk, a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. There were reasons why people didn't usually come out of hyperspace this close to a planetary body, chief among them the fact that doing it wrong could easily get you killed. Apparently, Warrior had decided he would rather take those risks than give any enemy ships or probes in the area the time and distance for a long, lingering look at them.

  Either he had a great deal of confidence in his crew, or else he had a reckless streak that Lorne hadn't previously been aware of. Or possibly both.

  [A landing site, you will now provide one.]

  "Working on it," Lorne told him, shifting his eyes from the main display to the false-color sensor image and trying to figure out just where over Caelian they were. If that was the edge of Southway they were coming up on, then the Whitebank River should be about eight hundred kilometers to the east. They could look along the river until they found the heat signature of Essbend, tucked between the water and the Banded Hills. After that, it would be a simple matter of going due east another hundred thirty kilometers until they found Stronghold.

  [A radio challenge, it is given,] the Troft at the comm board reported. [Our identity, it is demanded.]

  [Our identity, transmit it,] Warrior said calmly.

  [Our identity, it is transmitted.]

  Lorne took a deep breath. So the invaders had sent a force to Caelian. He had hoped fervently that they wouldn't bother.

  Still, they were aboard an heir-ship of the Tlossie demesne. The invaders had honored that immunity once. They would surely do so again.

  [A second craft, it has arrived at the planet,] the Troft at the sensors spoke up suddenly. [A radio challenge, the planet has also sent one.]

  [The new craft, identify and locate it,] Warrior ordered. His voice was still calm, but Lorne could see that his radiator membranes were fluttering slightly against his arms.

  [The craft, a medium-range transport it is,] the Troft reported. [Its location, at var by yei by sist it is.]

  Lorne felt his stomach tighten. That vector put it slightly above and almost directly behind their own freighter. If someone was trying to box them in against the planet, he was doing a damn good job of it.

  [Our immediate departure, the planetary authority demands,] the Troft at the comm board reported. [Our presence, it will not permit.]

  [Our identity, again transmit it,] Warrior said. [Our business and presence, they must not be interfered with.]

  [Our immediate departure, the authority insists upon it,] the Troft repeated. His radiator membranes were starting to flutter now, as well. [A landing, he will use force to prevent one.]

  [Armaments, does this vessel possess them?] Lorne asked carefully.

  [Armaments, it does not possess them,] Warrior said, an edge of anger coloring his voice. [A bluff, the authority makes one. An heir of the Tlos'khin'fahi Demesne, he will not attack him.]

  [Our departure, the authority demands it,] the Troft at the comm said tensely. His membranes had now risen halfway up from his arms. [Our final warning, he states this is it.]

  [Our course, continue it,] Warrior ordered. [A bluff, he makes one.]

  [The order, I obey it.]

  [If a bluff, he does not make one?] Lorne asked carefully.

  [A bluff, he makes one,] Warrior said firmly. [A watch, you will keep it. A lesson, you will learn it.]

  Or else he has a reckless streak, the thought ran through Lorne's mind again. Grimacing, he hunched his shoulders and settled in to watch.

  * * *

  Paul was staring with full telescopics at his assigned drone hatchway on the southern warship, waiting for the first sign that it was about to open, when the whole image suddenly spun and veered crazily. Jerking as a flash of vertigo slapped across his brain, he hastily keyed his opticals back to normal sight.

  Just in time to see the southern Troft warship lift ponderously from the landing field. Leaning forward as large ships tended to do, it threw power to its grav lifts and rose into the sky, heading westward.

  "What the hell?" Harli breathed from Paul's side.

  "Looks like Jody convinced them, all right," Paul said grimly. "Only instead of sending out their drones, they decided to go check out Essbend for themselves."

  "Well, damn," Harli said, turning around to gaze at the departing warship as it headed off into the distance.
>
  "So what now?" Paul asked.

  For a long moment Harli didn't answer. Paul watched as the Troft warship continued to climb and faded into the morning haze. "They want to play it that way?" Harli said. "Fine--we can play it that way, too. Everyone grab your bombs and come with me."

  Without waiting for a response, he set off into the forest at a fast jog. "Where are we going?" Paul asked, hurrying to catch up.

  Harli flashed him a tight grin. "Maybe the Trofts haven't thought about this part of it," he said, "but they've just taken fifty percent of their heavy firepower out of the picture."

  He turned to face front again, his grin turning into a snarl. "Let's see if we can do something about the other fifty percent."

  * * *

  [The atmosphere, a ship has cleared it,] the Troft at the sensor board reported. [A course to our vessel, it has set one.]

  [The type of craft, identify it,] Warrior ordered.

  [A Drim'hco'plai Class II city sentry warship, it is one,] the Troft said. [The Aventine city sentries, of the same type it is.]

  [Orders, I request them,] the helmsman spoke up.

  [Our course, continue it,] Warrior said. [Our identity, again transmit it.]

  [The warship's weapons, he has activated them,] the sensor Troft said, his membranes fully extended now.

  [Orders, I request them,] the helmsman repeated more urgently. [Evasion, shall I initiate it?]

  [Evasion, you shall not initiate it,] Warrior said.

  Behind Lorne, the bridge door slid open, and he turned as Croi and Nissa hurried in. "What's going on?" Croi demanded, his eyes flicking over the displays. "Someone out there said we were under attack."

  "Right now, we're just under observation," Lorne told them. "But the other is definitely waiting in the wings."

  "Anything I can do?" Croi asked.

  "I doubt it," Lorne said. "Surgeons are usually more useful after a fight than during it."

  "Funny," Croi muttered. "I can fight, you know."

  "So go get your biggest scalpel," Lorne said. "Something the size of a sword, if you have one."

  "Broom--"

  "If you haven't, I suggest you both go back to our quarters and wait," Lorne cut him off. "And if you hear laser fire, you'd better get all the rest of your scalpels ready."

  * * *

  "New blip," Khatir snapped, hunching over the transport's helm display. "Big one, coming up from the surface."

  "Identification?" Jin asked.

  "It's too far away for good resolution," Khatir said. "But from its overall size and shape, it could be one of the same kind of sentry ship we faced in the streets of Sollas."

  Jin's hands curled into fists. She'd hoped against hope that the invaders would consider Caelian so useless and insignificant that they wouldn't even bother sending a force to occupy it.

  And not only had they sent a force, they'd sent enough of one that they could spare a warship from their ground operation to come up here and check out an unexpected and uninvited intruder.

  Or rather, two uninvited intruders. "Rashida Vil, can you confirm yet whether or not the freighter up there is the Tlossie who refueled us at Aventine?"

  "What do you want me to say?" the young woman asked stiffly, throwing Jin a dark look. "We're too far away to see the hull markings, and we never had a transmitted ID signal from them."

  "But who else could they be?" Siraj put in brusquely. "They're the only ones who knew who we were. They're the only ones who could have guessed where we were going." He shook his head. "The mission is over, Jasmine Moreau. I say we leave right now, before that warship gets within firing range."

  "And return to Qasama empty-handed?" Jin asked. "That will hardly bring us honor."

  "Better to arrive empty-handed than with no hands at all," Siraj countered. "If we linger, they'll take us all."

  "We need allies," Jin insisted.

  "There are none," Rashida said, her tone dark. "Your hope has failed, Jasmine Moreau. There are no friends for Qasama anywhere out here. There are only enemies."

  "So you agree with Siraj Akim." Jin turned to Zoshak. "Carsh Zoshak?" she invited.

  "I must also agree," Zoshak said. Unlike Siraj and Rashida, he sounded more disappointed than angry or bitter. "The freighter must have followed us here, coming out of hyperspace ahead of us so as to be able to give the alert to the other invaders. Why else would they be here?"

  "I don't know," Jin said. "But the Tlossies aren't other invaders. They're not part of the group who've attacked our worlds."

  "Yet here they are," Siraj pointed out, gesturing toward the forward display. "If they're not the invaders' allies, answer Carsh Zoshak's question. Why are they here?"

  "Why did they allow us to escape Aventine instead of betraying us right then and there?" Jin countered. "Here, we still have a chance to escape. At Aventine, surrounded by warships, we would have had none at all."

  "Perhaps they wished to see where we'd go next," Rashida suggested.

  "According to Siraj Akim's reasoning, they already knew where we were going," Jin reminded her. "You can't have it both ways."

  "We may not get it either way," Khatir put in, his voice suddenly odd. "The rising warship isn't heading toward us. It's heading toward the freighter."

  "That's good, isn't it?" Rashida asked, looking at her own set of displays.

  "Good for us," Khatir agreed. "Not so good for the Tlossies."

  Siraj sniffed. "A meeting of allies."

  "To what end?" Zoshak asked. "They can speak together just as well by comm."

  "He's right," Jin said grimly. "The invaders are going in because they want a closer look at the freighter."

  "As I said, not so good for the Tlossies," Khatir said. "Jasmine Moreau, do you wish me to go around them and try for the surface?"

  Jin braced herself. "No," she said. "Transmit the clearance codes we got from the transport's pilot back at Qasama. Tell the warship that the Tlossies are with us."

  Siraj's mouth dropped open. "What?"

  "They risked their lives to help us back at Aventine," Jin said. "It's our turn now to help them."

  "And if the Tlossies aren't as they appear?" Siraj demanded. "If they're allies of the invaders and are merely playing games with us?"

  "They're not our enemies," Jin insisted. "They sent Merrick and me to Qasama to help you. They refueled us and got us away from Aventine. And they've been our trading partners for decades."

  "Do you truly believe they're our friends?" Zoshak asked.

  Jin looked him straight in the eye. "Yes."

  Zoshak exhaled heavily. "Then I say we do it," he said. "Jasmine Moreau is our ally, Siraj Akim, and so far her instincts have proved to be good. I say we trust those instincts one more time."

  "I too am willing," Rashida said.

  Siraj snorted. "You're a woman."

  "I'm translator and second pilot," Rashida said stiffly. "My opinion has a right to be heard and weighed."

  Siraj glared at her a moment, then shifted the glare to Khatir. "And you, Ghofl Khatir?"

  Khatir shrugged. "My opinion hardly matters," he pointed out. "You're the senior Djinni aboard. The decision is yours."

  "But whatever you decide, it must be quick," Jin added.

  Siraj locked eyes with her, his lips compressed into a thin, pale line. "What would you say to them?" he asked.

  "We tell them we're from the Qasaman contingent," Jin said, thinking quickly. "Just in case the clearance codes are different between the different invasion groups. The Tlossies are a potential ally, and we were ordered to bring them here for a closer look at Caelian."

  "Why would they want a look at a living death trap?" Siraj scoffed.

  "Because there may be useful plants and animals down there," Khatir offered. "Or possibly mineral wealth."

  "We'll go with the plants," Jin decided. "Especially their potential pharmaceutical uses. The Tlossies do a lot with that sort of thing."

  Siraj gave a curt nod and shifte
d his eyes to Rashida. "Go ahead," he ordered her. "Be convincing."

  Rashida turned around and keyed her board. [Your attention, we request it,] she said in cattertalk.

  Jin listened with half an ear, watching the displays and trying to figure out what they would do if the invaders didn't go for their story. At the moment, the warship was far enough in, and their own transport far enough out, that they could duck back into hyperspace reasonably safely and get out of the system.

  But that would mean abandoning the freighter to face the warship alone. Worse, by identifying themselves as the Tlossies' escort, Rashida had now effectively linked the two ships together. If the Qasamans made a run for it, or did anything else guilty-looking, that same level of guilt would automatically shift over to the freighter.

  [--your course, you will hold it,] the Troft voice ordered, the words snapping Jin out of her thoughts. [Your orders, we will examine them.]

  "Uh-oh," Khatir murmured.

  Rashida turned around. "Jasmine Moreau?" she asked tightly. "What do I say?"

  "What do I do?" Khatir added.

  And suddenly, all eyes were on Jin. "Hold your course," she told them, her mouth going dry. "Just hold your course. I'll think of something."

  * * *

  "Fire in three!" Harli shouted, his voice from half a kilometer away perfectly clear in Paul's enhanced hearing. "Audios down!"

  Obediently, Paul keyed them back . . . and exactly three seconds later, the forest was rocked by a violent triple explosion. The echoes of the blast faded away.

  And with a softer but even more horrendous crunching noise, the three huge steelwood trees that Harli's men had mined tilted over and fell, slamming with a rolling crunch against the top of the Troft warship.

  The ship was big and massive. But so were the trees, and the ship's design had given it a dangerously narrow base . . . and as Paul watched in awe the ship tilted sideways and ponderously toppled over to slam into the city's outer wall. For a moment it balanced there, squeezed like the center of a sandwich between stainless steel wall below and Caelian steelwood tree above.

  But the wall had never been designed for this kind of abuse. The rustling of branches from the fallen trees was still audible when the wall gave an abrupt screech of its own and collapsed beneath the warship's weight. With a final crunch of buildings and vehicles, the Troft ship came to rest on its side.