Cobra Slave

by Timothy Zahn

Khahar’s eyes were all but spitting laser fire of their own. But he and Chimm were clearly expected back at Archway, and standing here looking idiots while they had a face-off with a Cobra in a tree was apparently below Khahar’s personal dignity level. “Fine,” he said darkly. “But this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.” Gesturing to Chimm, he spun around and stalked toward the aircar.

  Lorne switched his attention to the ring of silent townspeople. There seemed to be some mild disappointment on a few of the faces, those men in particular who’d probably been hoping to see Bitter Creek’s new Cobra deal out some mayhem. But most of them seemed satisfied to see the intruders slapped down without the use of force. Especially since any such violence would undoubtedly have repercussions for the whole town somewhere down the line.

  And speaking of the use of force…

  “You’re right, it’s not,” Lorne called after Khahar. “Mayor McDougal is going to prepare a receipt for the guns you just destroyed. Both of you will sign and print it, and the Dominion will have three days to reimburse the owners.”

  Khahar spun back around, a look of disbelief on his face. “Like hell we will,” he said. “It was self-defense.”

  “Hardly,” Lorne said. “None of the guns were pointed at you.”

  “They had them out and ready.”

  “Everyone traveling outside a town fence has a weapon out and ready,” Lorne countered. “That’s how life is in the expansion regions.” He cocked his head. “But I understand how paperwork is. If the receipt thing is too much trouble, I’ll bet there are some nice weapons in your aircar you could hand out instead.”

  Khahar’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t even think it,” he warned. “The first move anyone makes toward our car, the next volley will be to kill.”

  “Only if you’re ready for all of us to die together,” Lorne said. “I’ve already got you target-locked. And don’t forget, your superiors need me alive. I doubt they’d even miss you.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Chimm snarled. “You try assaulting us, and they’ll be sifting your brain aboard the Algonquin by nightfall.”

  “They could certainly try,” Lorne said, feeling his forehead crease. They’d be sifting his brain? What in the Worlds did that mean? “But you’re right—today would be a rotten day to die, what with you being missing from the Archway riots and all. So I guess we’d better go with the receipt thing instead. Mayor?”

  “Got it,” McDougal said, making a last flourish on her comboard and stepping up behind the two Marines. “If you’ll both sign and thumbprint, please?”

  For another couple of seconds Lorne thought Khahar might be rethinking the whole blaze-of-glory approach. But he merely snorted and yanked the comboard from McDougal’s hand. He signed and thumbprinted the document and watched, glowering, as Chimm did likewise. Then, with a final glare at Lorne, the two of them stalked back to their aircar. A minute later they were above the treetops, gaining altitude and heading toward Archway.

  Lorne waited until the sound of their grav lifts had faded completely from his enhanced hearing. Only then did he drop back to the ground, making sure to let his knee and hip servos take the impact. “Thanks,” he said, looking around the circle. “That could have been awkward.”

  “It was awkward,” McDougal said sourly. “But thanks at least for trying to get our guns back.”

  “You’ll get them,” Lorne promised. “I’ll make sure of that.”

  “Yeah,” McDougal said. “We’ll see.” She gestured to the others. “Looks like that’s it for now. I’ll let you know if and when I need you again.”

  The men glanced at each other, and still without speaking a word they got back in their cars or onto their cycles and headed out. A minute later, Lorne and McDougal were again alone. “You know you’re not going to get any real news out of Archway, don’t you?” she said. “They’ve got the whole province comm system locked up tighter than a switchback.”

  “That’s okay,” Lorne said. “My parents are there. They’ll find a way to get word to us.”

  “Yeah,” McDougal said, not sounding like she believed that any more than she believed the Dominion would come through with money for the lost weapons. “You heading for bed?”

  Lorne snorted. “Like I’m going to be able to sleep now. No, I think I’ll head back to Stony Creek and see if I can sniff out those other way stations.”

  “Sounds good to me,” McDougal said, and this time Lorne thought he could detect a hint of respect in her voice. “You got a field radio?”

  “Right here,” Lorne said, tapping his inside pocket. “I’ll let you know when it’s safe to send in the loggers, and I’ll stay with them until they’re done.”

  “We’ll see,” McDougal said. “You’re way behind on sleep, and you won’t be any use to anyone if you fall asleep across a brambler bush.”

  “I’ll be all right,” Lorne assured her, walking over to his grav-lift cycle and climbing back into the saddle. The adrenaline rush had faded, and fatigue was pulling at his eyelids like five-kilogram weights.

  But there was no way he was going to back out now. Questions of pride and professionalism aside, he had no intention of being asleep and snoring when Khahar came back for another try.

  And he would be back. That was as guaranteed as tomorrow’s sunrise.

  “I’ll call you later.” Turning on the engine, he raised the vehicle to operating height and headed back toward the woods.

  And hoped that, whatever was happening in Archway, his parents would be able to deal with it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  In Jin’s opinion, the crowd that had gathered outside Yates Fabrications hardly qualified as a mob, which was how Badger Werle had described it during their hurried comm conversation. True, there were about a hundred people clustered together twenty meters back from the building’s main entrance, and there was a low rumble of tense and ominous conversation rippling through them. But no one was shouting or brandishing weapons, and no one was loudly demanding freedom or death. For all she could tell, they might have been attending an open-air meeting sponsored by some political hopeful.

  But then, Jin and Paul were seeing the crowd from the rear. Werle and the other twenty Cobras standing a sentry line between the townspeople and the plant’s entrance were seeing the group’s other side. From that vantage point, it was entirely possible that the crowd looked more like a mob.

  And whatever it was, it was growing bigger by the minute as more vehicles pulled up at the edges or people strode in on foot. If it wasn’t a mob yet, she realized soberly, it could easily turn into one.

  “Not good,” Paul murmured as they headed across a parking lot already packed with cars toward the milling crowd. “Maybe Lorne’s Marines weren’t exaggerating as much as he thought.”

  “I don’t understand,” Jin murmured back. “What in the Worlds is going on?”

  “They’re trying to repurpose the plant,” a voice said.

  Jin turned. The man coming up beside them from somewhere in the mass of parked cars was middle-aged, maybe a year or two younger than she was, with the wrinkled skin of someone who’d spent much of his life outdoors. “Excuse me?” she asked.

  “The Dominion’s trying to repurpose the plant,” he repeated. “You’re Lorne Moreau’s folks, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Paul confirmed. “Paul and Jasmine Broom.”

  “Good—glad I caught you,” the man said. “I’m Lester Kalhandra. Badj Werle asked me to try and intercept before you got close enough for the Marines to spot you.”

  “You’ve got Marines here?” Paul asked, frowning as he looked around. “Where?”

  “They’re mostly inside,” Kalhandra said. “But I don’t doubt Reivaro’s got a few out here keeping an eye on things. That man’s a class-A weasel.”

  “What did you mean, they’re repurposing the plant?” Jin asked.

  “They want to make armor plate for the Dewdrop and our other ships instead of farm machinery like it’s supposed t
o,” Kalhandra said. “Though what the hell use they think four armored freighters are going to be I haven’t a clue. But some brain-wizard seems to think it’s a clever idea, and they’re hell-bent on carrying it out. They’re in there right now reprogramming all the design modules.”

  “Can they even make armor plate with the machinery they’ve got in there?” Jin asked, frowning. “I’d think you’d need specialized equipment.”

  “And you’d be right,” Kalhandra said grimly. “Odds are they’ll wreck every fabricator in the place within a week. And once they do—” He gestured at the ever-growing mass of people in front of them. “Every last one of these people will be out of work.”

  “Including you?” Paul suggested.

  “Including me,” Kalhandra confirmed. “Plus my son and daughter-in-law.”

  “Hasn’t Yates warned them that this will destroy the plant?” Jin asked.

  “Often and loudly,” Kalhandra said. “Maybe they don’t realize how much these machines cost to repair or replace. Maybe they just don’t care. Who the hell knows?”

  Jin craned her neck, eyeing the line of Cobras standing between the people and the plant. “So why are the Cobras there?”

  Kalhandra snorted. “Why do you think? Reivaro ordered them to come in and keep order.”

  “I thought you said he had his own Marines,” Paul said.

  “He does,” Kalhandra said. “But according to him, their weapons are lethal, whereas Cobras have stunners and sonics and other more humane methods of crowd control. Badj said he made it sound like he was doing Archway a favor by making the Cobras face everyone down instead of putting his own men there.”

  “Trying to drive a wedge between the Cobras and the rest of the people,” Paul said.

  “You think?” Kalhandra said sourly. “What I don’t get is why Ishikuma didn’t refuse. He should at least have appealed to the Dome or something. I can’t see Dreysler putting up with this.”

  “I wouldn’t throw it all on Dreysler’s shoulders,” Paul said. “He’s undoubtedly getting pressure from Chintawa, and Chintawa’s walking a thin line of his own with Commodore Santores.”

  “And don’t forget the anti-Cobra faction in the Council,” Jin added. “They’re probably salivating at the idea of moving Dominion forces into the positions Cobras have always held before.” She gestured toward the crowd. “The more people they can turn against us, the happier they’ll be.”

  “Fomenting a battle between Cobras and the people they’re supposed to be protecting would be a good start,” Paul said soberly. “And the Cobras, for their part, know that if they don’t hold back the mob, the Marines will do it for them. At probably a lot higher cost.”

  “You’ve got that right,” Kalhandra agreed darkly. “I’ve heard that Santores has already gone on record that this plant is vital to the Dominion’s war effort. If Reivaro can persuade Santores that an angry mob is about to wreck the place, he’ll probably be able to do whatever he wants and skate on the consequences.”

  “Maybe we can pull together enough firepower of our own to force Reivaro to back down,” Jin suggested. “How many Cobras are in DeVegas?”

  “You’re looking at them,” Kalhandra said. “That line has every Cobra in the province except for Lorne. And they’ve probably got him on the way.”

  “Who all is inside the building?” Paul asked.

  “Yates, Reivaro, and a bunch of Dominion people,” Kalhandra said. “At least twenty of them, techs and Marines combined. Reivaro wasn’t even going to let Yates in, but the techs said it would take days to crack the encoding on the computer systems without him.”

  “Or else Reivaro realized he’d be a fool to let Yates out of his sight,” Paul said thoughtfully. “After all, the man who runs the plant is also the man who knows best how to wreck it.”

  Jin frowned at him. “You suggesting we wreck the place? Isn’t that a bit counterproductive?”

  “No, it’s a lot counterproductive,” Paul said. “But Aventine needs to draw a line in the sand and let Santores know he can’t treat us like his personal slaves. Any idea what Reivaro’s timetable looks like?”

  Kalhandra shrugged. “From the little I know about the programming process, I’d guess he can probably get everything set up in another three or four hours. Once that’s done, he can start building his damn armor alloys.”

  “How will we know when that happens?”

  “Trust me—when the compressors and meldors start up, everyone within half a kilometer will know it.” Kalhandra gestured to the crowd. “I’m guessing that’s when we’re likely to get a fast shift from watchful-waiting to what-the-hell-have-we-got-to-lose.”

  Jin felt her stomach tighten, her mind flicking to her lost son Merrick. “There’s always more to lose,” she murmured.

  “Maybe,” Kalhandra said. “But there’s a school of thought that says if you’re going to go down in flames anyway, you might as well be the one lighting the matches.”

  “So what we need to do is wreck it just enough to slow him down,” Paul concluded. “Try to give the Dome enough time to come up with a response.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Kalhandra said. “Problem is, how do we do that? I don’t have a clue how even a Cobra would wreck those fabricators. The damn things are like mechanical mountains.”

  “Then we ask someone who does know,” Jin said.

  “You mean Yates?” Kalhandra asked, frowning. “But he’s already inside. I said that.”

  “Then we need to get inside with him,” Paul said. “Are there any other doors?”

  “Just emergency exits you can’t open from the outside,” Kalhandra said, his voice suddenly thoughtful. “But there are some big ceiling exhaust vents you can probably get through. Especially since nothing is running at the moment that needs venting.”

  Jin focused on the building behind the crowd. “Those walls are a little too tall to get to the top in a single jump,” she said, keying in her telescopics. “They look awfully smooth, too. I don’t think we can climb it.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you can’t,” Kalhandra seconded. “Knowing Yates, he probably deliberately designed it so that Cobras couldn’t get up there. But I’m thinking that if I cup my hands and you jump while I throw you, the extra oomph might do the trick.”

  Jin frowned at the man’s slender frame. “You aren’t serious.”

  “Trust me—there’s more than you can see on the surface,” he assured her. “More than Reivaro and his goons can see, either. That’s why Badj sent me to intercept you.”

  Jin felt her stomach tighten. “You’re a—?”

  “A failed Cobra,” Kalhandra said. “Go ahead—you can say it. Medical discharge, if it matters. You game to try, or not?”

  “I’m game,” Jin said. A lot of failed Cobras nurtured deep resentments toward the whole Cobra system, especially those who had already received their enhancements and were bounced at the last minute for psychological reasons. But not everyone found their earlier love turned to hatred. Besides, if Kalhandra wanted to trap them in a compromising position, there were lots of easier ways for him to do that. “You have a spot in mind?”

  “Just a second,” Paul put in, taking her arm. “Before we go any further, let’s make sure we fully understand the possible consequences. Santores is already looking for an excuse to lock us up. If one of us goes in there and gets caught, we’re finished.”

  “And if I don’t, the plant’s ruined and people are out of jobs,” Jin said. “I think it’s worth the risk, especially since I’ve been doing some hard thinking and I’m ninety-nine-percent sure I don’t have anything Santores can use.”

  “Likewise,” Paul said. “Which is why we draw straws to see who does this.”

  Jin shook her head. “I do this because your leg’s still healing.”

  “You’re still recovering from brain surgery.”

  “Which means they’ll be more careful with me if I’m the one who gets caught,” Jin said. “So that’s se
ttled.” She turned back to Kalhandra. “How do we do this?”

  “You’re sure you don’t want to talk about it some more?” Kalhandra asked snidely. “Fine. It’ll be faster if we drive—my car’s over here.”

  A minute later, Kalhandra was maneuvering them between the lines of vehicles toward a narrow circular drive that ran around the building, its edges lined with decorative clumps of trees. “This is mostly a service drive,” he said as they reached the end of the parking lot and turned onto it. “Mostly used by the groundskeepers and some of the delivery people. And of course, the Dominion people don’t know who those are. What’s your husband up to?”

  Frowning, Jin looked out the window. Paul was striding purposefully through the lines of parked cars toward the mob. “I don’t know,” she said. “Hopefully, not something stupid.”

  “Yeah, well, from what I’ve heard, doing stupid things runs in your family,” Kalhandra said with a grunt. “But it usually works out.”

  “Usually,” Jin murmured. “Whatever he’s up to, there’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s concentrate on our part, and let him do his.” She grimaced. “Whatever that is.”

  #

  The crowd wasn’t very densely packed, and Paul was able to work his way through with a minimum of jostling and only an occasional request to let him pass.

  Some of the men and women glanced at him as he went by. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some of those glances turn into double-takes.

  He was halfway through the crowd when he noticed a sudden change in the texture of the murmured conversation around him. Frowning, he keyed in his audios.

  And felt a frown crease his forehead. The tone, the texture, the content—all three were totally unexpected, and on one level completely bizarre. In fact, he had to eavesdrop on four separate whispered exchanges as he made his way forward before he finally and reluctantly concluded that the reason for the sudden excitement was genuinely what he was hearing.

  Paul Broom was here.

  It made no sense, not even when he overheard one of the men explaining in whispers to some friends who exactly the famous visitor was. Especially since the man’s assessment was just flat-out wrong. While Paul had played a role in both the Caelian and Qasaman victories, he’d hardly been a key figure in either battle.