Cobra Outlaw

by Timothy Zahn

  The second grunted an acknowledgment and reached around to his back with his free hand.

  And with the situation nearly resolved and the two Marines therefore starting to relax, Jody pushed her arms forward and inward, forcing their arms inward as well. Before they could react, she grabbed the sides of their heads and shoved them together.

  One of the men had just enough time for his eyes to widen in disbelief. Then their heads slammed together with a wet-melon sound and they dropped to the floor in a tangled heap.

  Jody took a deep breath, her arms starting to shake with reaction. It had been a gamble—a horribly dangerous gamble, given the Marines’ armament. But it had paid off.

  The epaulets were programmed to react to any threat the tiny computers calculated could be potentially damaging, including a rapidly-approaching incoming object. Unfortunately for these particular Marines, and exactly as she’d hoped would be the case, the programmers had written in an exemption when that incoming object was a fellow Marine.

  Or, in this case, a fellow Marine’s head.

  Stepping between the unconscious men, Jody pushed open the door.

  It was, as anticipated, a recovery room, its furnishings consisting of an adjustable bed wrapped in an array of monitoring equipment, a rolling food table, and two guest chairs. The man sitting up in the bed was middle-aged, with short white hair and a tired, haggard face. Above the waist he was wearing a loose white hospital tunic; below the waist, his legs were encased in some kind of mechanical cocoon covered with tubes, wires, and monitors. Beside him, another, younger man in a Dominion uniform had pulled up one of the chairs alongside the bed.

  Both men looked toward Jody as she walked into the room, and she saw the uniformed man twitch his eyelid. “I apologize for the interruption,” Jody said. “My name is Jody Moreau Broom. May I ask whom I have the honor of addressing?”

  Slowly, the uniformed man stood up. “Lieutenant Cottros Meekan,” he identified himself cautiously. “Aide to Captain Barrington Moreau.”

  “Lieutenant Commander Eliser Kusari,” the man in the bed added. “Second Officer of the Dominion of Man War Cruiser Dorian. Forgive our surprise, but you’re the last person we expected to walk through that door. Especially a guarded door. The guards didn’t challenge you?”

  “They did,” Jody said. “I was more determined to speak with you than they were to stop me. Don’t worry—they should be all right in a couple of hours.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Kusari said, in a voice that warned there would be serious consequences if they weren’t. “You have friends, I gather?”

  Jody thought quickly. Until the guards woke up, hers would be the only story about what had happened. Even then, depending on how scrambled their short-term memories were— “Quite a few, yes,” she said. “In this case, though, only Caelian friends were involved. Whatever consequences you choose to invoke, there’s no reason to invoke them against any of the Qasamans.”

  “We can discuss that at a future date,” Kusari said, eyeing her thoughtfully. “You said you wanted to speak to me. Very well: speak.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Jody said, inclining her head to him. “I presume that by now you’ve discovered that the Squire is here on Qasama.”

  There might have been a twitch of Meekan’s eyebrow. “We have,” Kusari confirmed. “Did you come here to explain how that happened?”

  “I am,” Jody confirmed. “It’s a bit more complicated than it appears.”

  “It generally is,” Kusari said. “Is Shahni Omnathi aware that you’re here?”

  “No,” Jody said, feeling her stomach tighten. And he would probably be furious when he found out, too. If she and the others didn’t get off Qasama tonight, she was going to be catching serious hell from at least two different directions. “But you deserved to hear the whole story, and I’m one of the few who can tell you.”

  “Or would tell us?” Kusari countered. “Fine. You can tell us your story; and afterwards you can tell us what you want.”

  Jody frowned. “What I want?”

  “I’ve done some reading on the Moreau family, Ms. Broom,” Kusari said. “You have a long history of being involved in Cobra Worlds politics. I don’t for a minute believe that you came in here out of a purely altruistic desire to set the record straight.”

  “You’re right, I have a request,” Jody said. “But let me first tell you how the Squire came to be on Qasama.”

  For a moment, Kusari and Meekan looked at each other. Then, Kusari gave a small nod. “Very well,” he said. “Lieutenant, would you bring over that other chair?” He smiled slightly at Jody. “I have a feeling this is going to take a while. We might as well be comfortable.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Just to be on the safe side, Merrick took the long way around back to Alexis’s forest ranch.

  Though it was clear midway through his travels that the extra caution was unnecessary. The aircar that had been watching the Games was slow to take up the chase, and when it did, it headed in the wrong direction entirely. Whereas Merrick had gone east, and Alexis’s ranch was to the northwest, the aircar instead headed due north. The two other aircars that subsequently arrived and joined in the hunt didn’t do any better.

  But Anya would be waiting for him at the ranch, and Merrick had no intention of leading any Trofts there. So he headed east, then south, crossed the river that flowed past Svipall, traveled along it to the west, and finally crossed it again and headed north.

  Along the way, he approached as many large nocturnal animals as he could find, especially the larger predators, in hopes of confusing any Troft infrared sensors that were able to penetrate the forest canopy. A few of the predators showed some mild interest in him, but each time a short burst from his sonic was enough to discourage them.

  Finally, two hours after his mad dash through the Troft drug lab, he crossed the bersarkis strip at the edge of Alexis’s ranch and trudged wearily around the groups of dozing and late-evening-snacking sheep to the house.

  There was a figure sitting on the porch, and Merrick’s first assumption was that Anya had waited up for him. But as he got within a few meters, he saw to his surprise that it was, instead—

  [My remaining slave, he has finally returned,] Kjoic said as Merrick came up to him. The Troft’s radiator membranes were fluttering, in anger or frustration or both. [The rest, they have fled from my presence.]

  Merrick frowned. The others had fled? [Apologies for my disappearance, I offer them,] he said carefully as he bowed. [The other slaves, when did they leave?]

  [The older female slave, she returned from a journey,] Kjoic said. [The other slaves, they then gathered together. Their disappearance, a few minutes later I noticed it.]

  So Hanna had returned from guiding Merrick to Svipall; and then the whole group had just left? Including Anya? [Their destination, did they specify it?]

  [Their destination, they did not reveal it,] Kjoic said. His membranes fluttered a little harder. [But other truth, I have been told it. Your identity, it is not as you proclaimed.]

  Merrick was trying to figure out what the Troft meant by that when there was a sudden rustling in the trees and bushes behind him. [Movements, you will not make them,] a harsh Troft voice ordered.

  Merrick froze, a curse bubbling in his throat. Tired after his long hike, and knowing that the bersarkis barrier protected the ranch from predators, he’d gotten inexcusably sloppy at the very end.

  And he was about to pay dearly for his failure to scan the area before entering it.

  But recriminations were a waste of effort. The crucial question now was, how deep in trouble was he?

  Deep enough. From the sound of the footsteps wading through the grass and leaves, he guessed there were four of them.

  Under some circumstances, particularly during Qasaman invasion, that wouldn’t have been too bad. Especially given that the Trofts behind him had no idea who and what he was. Even if they were wearing armor, he should be able
to take all four of them out before they could return fire.

  But if he did that, his secret would be out. Even if he left no survivors, the Trofts who’d fought on Qasama and the Cobra Worlds had had more than enough experience with Cobras to identify the laser frequencies and arcthrower power profiles their weaponry used. A good investigator might even be able to deduce from the target positioning and shot grouping that a Cobra’s sensors and nanocomputer had been involved.

  [His identity, what is it?] Kjoic asked, his voice trembling a little. [An alien agent, that is what you named him to me earlier. That identity, it is now confirmed?]

  [That identity, it is confirmed,] the lead Troft said.

  Kjoic’s membranes pressed straight out. [Horror, I feel it,] he said. Bounding up from the bench, he hurried away from the house, giving Merrick a wide berth, and disappeared to Merrick’s rear and out of his field of view.

  [A half-turn, you will make one,] the lead Troft ordered. [Your hands, you will keep them visible.]

  The best thing Merrick could do, he knew, was to play along and watch for a chance to escape somewhere down the line. Hopefully without having to reveal who he was. Keeping his arms well away from his sides, his hands open, he slowly turned around.

  There were indeed four Trofts back there, all of them armored, all of them holding military-grade laser rifles trained on their prisoner. They stood closer together than good soldiers should, he noted absently, probably preferring the risk of a little extra bunching to the risk of being close enough to the surrounding trees to be targeted by one of Muninn’s arboreal predators. Kjoic had skittered around behind them, pressed up close to their line like a frightened child peering over a picket fence. Above the armored shoulders, Merrick could see Kjoic’s radiator membranes fluttering even more than they had been earlier.

  Apparently, learning that your adopted slave was an enemy agent wasn’t in his limited repertoire of experiences.

  But Kjoic’s sensibilities were far down on Merrick’s list of concerns at the moment, If Anya and the others hadn’t just left, but had instead been scooped up by the Trofts, he needed to know that. Right now, with his captors feeling pleased and confident at their successful mission, would be the time they were mostly likely to be loose-tongued about such things. [My location, how did you find it?] he asked.

  [Your clothing, it was recognized,] the lead Troft said. [Its origin, the humans in the village identified it to us.]

  Merrick grimaced. Alexis Turner. Woolmaster, indeed, and obviously well-known among the people of Svipall. That possibility had never even occurred to him.

  The question was, why hadn’t it occurred to Ludolf?

  Or had it?

  [Questions, it is not your place to ask them,] the Troft continued severely. [Your hands, you will place them on top of your head.]

  Let them take you, Merrick reminded himself firmly. Look for a way out later. He settled his palms on the top of his head—

  And without warning, the Troft who had spoken crumpled to the ground.

  He’d barely started to fall when the soldier beside him also began to collapse. The third had just enough time to swivel his head around before his own knees buckled and he dropped. The fourth had enough time to swivel his head and to jerk reflexively to the side.

  Which is why only then, with the fourth Troft’s movement, did Merrick see a small but brilliant flash of light angle up beneath the back of his head.

  A burst from Kjoic’s laser.

  The last of the soldiers hit the ground, and for a long moment Merrick and Kjoic stared across the bodies at each other. Kjoic broke the silence first. [An enemy agent, you are indeed one,] he said almost conversationally. [That truth, I suspected it from the start. Proof, I did not have it.]

  With an effort, Merrick found his own voice. [The masters, what has happened to them?] he asked. If he feigned ignorance and stupidity, maybe Kjoic could be persuaded to rethink the idea that Merrick was more than he seemed.

  But no. [A gap, there is one in all Drim’hco’plai demesne battle helmets,] Kjoic said, lifting his laser slightly. [A fatal flaw, it can sometimes be.]

  Merrick shook his head, his mind still reeling. So Kjoic was freely and openly admitting that he murdered the soldiers.

  But to what end? Was he trying to frame Merrick for the killings? What in the Worlds could that gain him? [Understanding, I do not have it,] he said.

  Kjoic’s membranes fluttered. “Of course you understand,” he said in smooth, flawless Anglic. “You just refuse to believe.”

  Merrick felt his mouth drop open. [Understanding, I do not have it,] he repeated, just to have something to say.

  “It’s quite simple,” Kjoic said. “You’re an enemy agent.” He gestured toward himself with his laser. “So am I.”

  He slid his laser back into its holster. “Come. We must be away from this place.”

  With an effort, Merrick forced his head to stop spinning. The surprises were coming way too fast. “And once we’ve done that?” he managed.

  Kjoic’s arm membranes fluttered. “Then,” he said, “you and I shall have a talk.”

  * * *

  For a minute after Jody finished her story the room was silent. “Interesting,” Meekan said thoughtfully. “Your thoughts, Commander?”

  “Tamu’s behavior was certainly marginal,” Kusari said. “Whether or not he exceeded his authority or standing orders will be for an Enquiry Board to decide. Of course,” he added, fixing Jody with a dark look, “so far we have just her side of the story.”

  “Agreed,” Meekan said. “You said Lieutenant Commander Tamu was still on Caelian?”

  “Yes,” Jody said. “We do have the two Marines from the gunbays here, though. Now that this is out in the open, I expect Shahni Omnathi will be willing to allow you to speak with them.”

  “Before or after he flays you alive?” Kusari asked pointedly.

  Jody winced. She’d known Omnathi wouldn’t be happy with her unilateral action. But up to now she hadn’t thought in terms of flaying. Perhaps she ought to. “That depends on you,” she said. “Or, rather, on Captain Moreau. You asked earlier what I wanted in exchange for this information.”

  Meekan gave her a knowing smile. “And that is . . . ?”

  Jody braced herself. “At the end of the Troft invasion of Qasama, my brother Merrick disappeared. We believe he was taken by some unknown group of Trofts to an unknown location. I want to take the Squire and go find him.”

  Once again, the two officers exchanged looks. “I presume you’re not simply planning to go star to star until the heat death of the universe,” Meekan said.

  “Not at all, Lieutenant,” Kusari said thoughtfully. “You’ll note she said find, not look for. I’d surmise she already knows where he is.”

  “I do,” Jody said. “Or at least, I have a starting point. The Drim ship the Qasamans captured to take us to Caelian had been capturing spine leopards from the Qasaman forest, for purposes we still don’t know. That ship had a course history in its computer that gave us its previous location.”

  “And since you also don’t know the purpose of your brother’s kidnapping, you’re assuming the two are related?” Kusari asked.

  Put into words that way, she had to admit, it did seem a little far-fetched. “I know it’s a long shot,” she conceded. “But Merrick’s been missing for over a month and a half. If he’s still alive—” She broke off. “I know you understand the concept of not leaving a comrade behind,” she said, forcing the emotion out of her voice. “If there’s even a chance he’s still alive, I have to go after him.”

  “In a Dominion of Man ship,” Kusari said.

  “Technically, it’s a Qasaman ship now,” Jody countered. “As such, I don’t really need your permission to take it. All I want is some assurance that Captain Moreau won’t blow us out of the sky.”

  “And whether his restraint will depend on whether or not a pair of his officers are aboard?” Meekan asked pointedly.


  Jody looked him straight in the eye. “We did in fact have a discussion about whether or not we should consider taking hostages as a last resort,” she said. “We decided that wasn’t a path we wanted to take. If we don’t get the captain’s permission, we’ll just take the Squire and hope we can get out of range before he can shoot us down.”

  Meekan shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ms. Broom,” he said. “But the captain could never and would never authorize such a thing. The political ramifications alone would be devastating to him and to his command.”

  Jody felt her throat tighten. She’d been afraid that would be their response.

  “Which is why,” Meekan continued, “I’ll have to authorize it instead.”

  Kusari’s mouth dropped open. “What?” he demanded.

  “The captain can’t do this, sir,” Meekan told him calmly. “Neither can you, for the same reasons. But I’m not as satisfying a target for anyone’s political revenge.”

  “Never mind the politics,” Kusari growled. “What about the military aspects? Turning over Fleet equipment to non-Fleet personnel puts you squarely into court-martial territory.”

  “As Ms. Broom has already pointed out, the Squire is no longer technically Fleet property,” Meekan said. “As to the rest, I’m willing to take the risk.” He smiled tightly at Jody. “As she said, sir: no one left behind.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Besides, there’s another factor in play here, a factor which has only just come to light. Tell me, Ms. Broom, have you ever heard of a demesne called the Kriel’laa’misar?”

  Jody searched her memory. “I don’t think so. Where are they located?”

  “We don’t know,” Meekan said. “But a few days ago some of their ships tried very hard to capture both the Hermes and the Dorian.”

  Jody frowned as the key word registered. “Capture? Not destroy?”