by Timothy Zahn
Not even if it was his own mother.
"I just meant we can't go off half-cocked," she said, trying hard to keep the sudden surge of emotion out of her voice. "We'll need schematics of the building, the location of the safe room, pictures of the two Shahni so that we can identify them—" she looked at Akim "—and anything else Miron Akim has undoubtedly already thought of that I haven't."
"Upper-class clothing, for one thing," Akim said. His expression was controlled, but Jin could hear a new hint of hope in his voice. "I also have the schematics if you wish to look at them. But that won't be critically important, since I'll be accompanying you the entire way."
"Very kind of you," Jin said. "But hardly necessary."
"On the contrary," Akim said. "The Shahni won't trust two strangers who come in asking them to leave their sanctuary. Besides, our best chance of entering is to announce ourselves as diplomats intent on negotiation with the invaders. Neither you nor your son can carry off such a charade, but I can."
He gestured. "Come. I'll take you to a place where you can change your clothing and have a bit of refreshment while you study the schematics."
There was food and drink waiting for them when they reached the preparation room. Merrick's stomach was growling, but he was too exhausted from his mostly sleepless night to do more than sample each selection.
Fortunately, the room had also come equipped with a cot, and after obtaining his mother's promise that she would wake him in half an hour he lay down and fell deeply asleep.
He awoke to that dazed, sluggish sensation that always accompanied a short nap on top of a serious sleep deficit. The sluggishness vanished when he discovered that, instead of the half hour he'd requested, he'd been allowed to sleep for nearly two hours.
"You needed the rest," Jin told him, not even looking up from the schematics Akim had spread out over the table. "And there wasn't really anything you needed to do."
"Except maybe learn a little about where we're going?" Merrick growled, trying to put some righteous indignation into his words. But it was a waste of effort. She was right—he'd been way too tired to even tackle spine leopards, let alone armed Trofts. All the preparation and strategy sessions in the Worlds wouldn't do him any good if he was too fuzzy to shoot straight.
"Miron Akim and I both know the layout," his mother assured him. "It's highly unlikely all three of us will end up getting separated."
"And if we are, it will likely be because we're in the midst of combat," Akim added. "At which point your job will be to clear out as many of the invaders as possible while I attempt to reach the Shahni."
"Your new clothes are in the bathroom," Jin said, nodding toward a half-open door. "Get dressed and we'll give you a quick summary of the plan."
The plan turned out to be considerably more wide-ranging than Merrick had expected. "Teams of Qasaman soldiers will be attacking five different locations throughout the city once the two Shahni have been moved to safety," Akim said, pointing to circled locations on a map of Sollas. "The Palace itself, the airfield control tower, the Southfield underground manufacturing facility, the western gate where you entered Sollas, and one of the city's eastern market areas."
"What's in the market area?" Merrick asked, eyeing the map over Akim's shoulder.
"Nothing," Akim said, a grim amusement in his voice. "But if we attack the invaders there, they may assume there's something of military value in the area and waste effort and resources trying to locate it."
Merrick grimaced. A neat little red herring, that. He wondered if the locals would be equally amused when hoards of Trofts descended on their neighborhood. "The troops will be assembling in the underground tunnels, I assume?" he asked.
"No, the main assaults will come from nearby buildings," Akim said. "But there will be small squads of Djinn waiting in the subcity to attack from within once the invaders' eyes are turned outward."
"And after the Shahni are out?" Merrick asked.
"None of the forces move until then," Akim confirmed. "Have you any further questions?"
Merrick slid the Palace floor plans out from beneath the city map and gave it a quick scan. There were actually two safe rooms, he saw, one on the second floor amid the administrative offices and one on the fourth in the living areas. Both rooms were well hidden, each nestled into a few square meters of floor space that had been subtly carved out from the rooms around them. "No, I think that's it," he said. "I assume we won't be using our real names."
"I will, though my title will be that of Senior Administrator to the Shahni," Akim said. "You are Haiku Sinn, my driver and assistant. Your mother is Niora Kutal, a specialist in law and procedure. We're requesting a meeting with the invasion leadership in order to open communications regarding their occupation of Qasaman territory."
Merrick looked at his mother. "You spent my nap time getting a law degree?"
"Hardly," Jin said. "But I think I can guarantee I know more about Qasaman law than any of the Trofts will."
"You're ready, then?" Akim asked.
Merrick nodded. "Let's do it."
"One final thing," Akim said, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "Understand that I say this not of myself, but at the direction of the Shahni." Visibly, he braced himself. "Daulo Sammon and his son Fadil will be held as hostages to your good behavior. Should you betray us, they'll be immediately put to death."
Merrick felt his jaw drop. Of all the underhanded—"Of course they will," Jin said calmly.
Merrick stared at his mother. "You knew about this?"
"No, but once he said it, it was obvious," she said. "Probably why Siraj Akim offered to help me rescue them in the first place."
"Of course," Merrick said, trying to sound as calm as his mother despite the hard knots in his stomach. Paranoid culture . . . "Anything else?" he asked Akim.
"No," Akim said, clearly relieved that that particular task was now behind him. Or maybe he was simply relieved that the Cobras had taken it so calmly. "Follow me."
Akim led the way through another maze of tunnels that eventually led back to the surface in a part of Sollas Merrick didn't recognize. They emerged from a set of row houses to find a black
limousine waiting for them at the curb. Merrick got behind the wheel, giving the controls a quick scan while his mother and Akim got into the back seat. The limo was considerably fancier than the Sammons' truck, but the important controls and gauges seemed to be in roughly the same places. Akim gave him a minute of instruction on the specific protocols of Qasaman city driving, then another half minute's worth of directions back to the Palace, and they were off.
There were no other cars on the city's streets to hinder travel, but the Troft barriers and checkpoints more than made up for it. Every third intersection or so was blocked by a handful of armed Trofts, many of them supported by an armored vehicle with a mounted swivel gun fastened to its roof. At each stop Akim lowered his window, gave his name and new title, and demanded he be permitted passage to the Palace to speak with the Troft commanders. Each time, the Trofts conferred by radio with someone higher in authority, and the car was passed through.
They also encountered two more of the tall, slender gunships along the way. Merrick, who'd never particularly liked city driving, found himself sweating as he carefully maneuvered the car through the narrow gap between gunship and curb under the Trofts' watchful eyes. Whether by luck or unexpected skill, he made it both times without even scratching the limo's paint.
And then, sooner somehow than he'd expected, they were back at the Palace. "Looks like they're setting up camp," he commented as he eyed the wide canopy the Trofts had erected beside the Palace entrance. Beneath the canopy, a handful of the aliens were setting up long tables and portable computer equipment.
"Most likely preparing to interview and register the citizens," Akim said. "An invader's first task is to control the movements of the people he's invaded."
One of the Trofts standing guard by the curb stepped into the street and held up
a hand toward the approaching car. Merrick eased the car to the curb, and once again Akim rolled down his window. "I am Senior Administrator Miron Akim—" he began.
"You are known and expected," the Troft's translator pin boomed. "The commanders have agreed to meet with you."
"Excellent," Akim said briskly, popping open his door. "My assistants—"
He broke off as the Troft pushed the door closed again. "You will follow that vehicle to their location," he said, gesturing with his laser at an armored vehicle that had pulled out into the street in front of them.
"Follow it where?" Akim demanded, a sudden edge beneath the official arrogance in his voice. "I told you I wish to speak to your leaders."
"You will follow that vehicle to their location," the Troft repeated, his own tone hardening as he gestured again. As he did so, Merrick noticed the alien's hand dip into a pouch at his waist. "Go now, or their invitation will be rescinded."
Akim glared at the Troft. "Very well," he said icily. "Haiku Sinn, follow the vehicle as instructed."
He rolled up his window as Merrick shifted the car back into gear. As he did so, out of the corner of his eye he saw the Troft reach his hand up past the window, and there was a soft thud as he slapped the roof .
Ahead, the armored car pulled away and headed down the street. Grimacing, Merrick followed. They were going to see the Troft commanders, all right.
Only they were going to see them in the wrong place.
Chapter Ten
"Great," Merrick muttered as he drove. "Now what—?"
"Quiet," his mother said. "Miron Akim, change places with me."
Merrick frowned, watching in the mirror as the two of them exchanged seats. His mother partially rolled down the window Akim had been sitting beside and slipped her hand up through the opening. For a moment she seemed to feel around; then, with a brief grimace of effort, she pulled against something, and Merrick caught a glimpse of a small object falling past the window onto the pavement. "All right, it's off," she said, pulling her hand back inside and closing the window again.
"What was it?" Akim asked. "A bomb?"
"I doubt it," Jin said. "Not much point in subtlety when they've got all those guns. My guess is that it was a bug so they could listen in on us, maybe get a preview of who we were and what we want."
"So what do we want, now that Plan A is blown?" Merrick asked.
"There may still be opportunities," Akim assured him. "Let's first see were we're taken."
"Looks like we're heading toward the airfield," Merrick suggested as the Trofts at the next checkpoint waved the two vehicles though. "Maybe the commanders are still aboard one of their ships."
"Perhaps," Akim agreed. "Though they'd be foolish indeed to allow three potentially dangerous persons into one of their vessels."
"The airfield control tower, then?" Jin offered. "It gives a good defensive view of that end of the city, not to mention the airfield itself."
"I agree," Akim said. "The control tower is definitely the most likely destination," Akim agreed. "If we're taken inside . . . " He trailed off, and in the mirror Merrick saw him grimace. "We'll have only one real option," he continued reluctantly. "One of us will have to escape from the invaders' custody and confirm to the Shahni that the rescue plan is no longer viable." His eyes locked on to Merrick's in the mirror. "That will be your task, Merrick Moreau."
"Shouldn't it be you?" Merrick asked. "I mean, you're the one they'll listen to."
"Unfortunately, the route you'll need to take will be dangerous for a man of my age," Akim said. "We'll have to trust that they'll accept your word and instructions."
Merrick looked at his mother in the mirror. But if she had objections she was keeping them to herself. "You're the boss," he said with a sigh. "What do I do?"
"There's a trapdoor in the rear corner of each elevator in the tower," Akim told him. "It will drop you into a net, which will then drop you through the false floor of the shaft to a landing below. The trip will be stressful, but not lethal."
"That's good to hear," Merrick said dryly. "What happens once I'm at the bottom?"
"From the landing a door leads into the subcity," Akim said. "There should be a squad of Djinn waiting there, and you'll instruct them that Plan Saikah must be initiated."
"What's Plan Saikah?" Merrick asked.
"Our best hope for throwing off the invaders," Akim said. "There's no need for you to know the details."
Merrick felt a chill run through him. An all-out assault on the Trofts? "All right," he said. "What do I do after I deliver the message?"
"That will be your choice," Akim said. "You may assist the Djinn, if they're willing to accept your aid, or you may step aside."
"I have a question," Jin said. "What happens to the Shahni in the Palace during Plan Saikah?"
"They'll serve Qasama in their own way," Akim said. "There—our destination."
Merrick shifted his full attention back to the view through the windshield. Sure enough, the airfield tower loomed ahead, with one of the wrigglefish-like sentry ships flanking it on either side. "How do I trigger the trapdoor?" he asked.
"I'll do that," Akim said. "Just make sure you stand in the right rear corner of the elevator as you face the doors."
Their pilot car led the way to a set of large doors and came to a halt. Four of the six Trofts guarding the entrance detached themselves from the others and strode toward the limo, their lasers covering the vehicle. "Prepare yourselves," Akim said. "And allow me to do the talking."
For the immediate moment, though, there wasn't any call for talking. With a handful of curt orders from one of the Trofts, the aliens herded the three humans into the tower and down a hallway to what had probably originally been a conference room. Over the past few hours, the Trofts had transformed it into a clearing station, complete with bolted-down interrogation chairs and a full staff of techs and armed guards.
They started with Akim, two of the guards firing questions at him about his family and background as one of the techs ran a handheld scanner over his clothing. After that it was Merrick's turn, and he could feel sweat collecting beneath his collar and in his armpits as he answered the questions and watched the tech's face for signs of surprise or confusion. Cobra gear was supposed to be undetectable unless someone was specifically looking for it, but as far as Merrick knew that theory had never been tested. Certainly not under conditions like these.
It was thus with a huge sense of relief that he watched the tech finish his sweep and step back without shouting a panicked warning. Whatever trouble they were expecting to find, Cobras apparently weren't on the list.
"What is your purpose here?" one of the Trofts asked after Jin had also been cleared.
"To speak to your commanders," Akim said, his voice the controlled stiffness of someone carrying out an errand he hadn't particularly wanted. "The Shahni wish to know why you have invaded Qasaman territory, and to open discussions leading to your departure."
The Troft covered his translator pin and started murmuring in cattertalk. Merrick ran his auditory enhancers up—[The humans, our presence they wish to discuss,] he said. [The leader, the garb of a senior Shahni official he wears.]
He received a reply and lowered his hand from his pin. "Follow," he said, and strode out of the room. Akim followed, with Jin behind him and Merrick behind her. Behind Merrick, two more Trofts brought up the rear.
Twenty meters later, they arrived at an alcove and a pair of elevators guarded by four more Trofts. One of the latter punched the call button as the party approached, and both sets of elevator doors slid open. The Troft leading the way turned and backed into the leftmost car, his eyes and laser trained on the humans. "Come," he said.
Akim nodded, but instead of following the other inside he stopped at the door and gestured Merrick to enter ahead of him. Merrick nodded and continued forward, hoping he could get inside before the Trofts started wondering about the sudden change in marching order.
But the Trof
ts merely stood impassively by as Merrick walked into the elevator. The lead Troft, to Merrick's relief, hadn't taken the corner above the trapdoor, and he casually crossed the car and took up position there. One of the other Trofts stepped into the elevator behind him and touched the lowest button on the control panel.
And to Merrick's stunned disbelief, the doors slid closed and the car started down.
"Wait!" he yelped, lunging toward the doors. Or trying to lunge, anyway; he managed only a single step before the first Troft swung the muzzle of his laser around and jabbed it warningly into Merrick's ribs. "We can't leave—Senior Administrator Akim is still outside."
[Fools, you think we are they?] the Troft at the door spat. [Spies, we do not understand that you are?]
The Qasaman translation had barely begun when Merrick grabbed hold of the laser barrel poking into his ribs and twisted it hard, shifting the muzzle out of line with his side and trying to pull it out of the Troft's grip.
But the Troft didn't let go, not even as the unexpected tug pulled him off his feet. He hung on grimly, his beak clacking unintelligibly as he fought for possession of the weapon. Merrick tried twisting the laser in the opposite direction, but the alien still kept hold of the weapon. The other Troft leaped forward, shoving at Merrick's arm with one hand and jabbing the muzzle of his own weapon into Merrick's face with the other.
And in that frozen fraction of a second, Merrick's body moved.
He let go of the laser he and the first Troft were fighting over, shrugging off the second Troft's grip on his arm and following through with a blindingly fast sweep of his hand across the weapon to knock it out of line. The momentum of the sweep twisted Merrick's shoulders around; and as his whole body did a quick corkscrew to the right his left hand swung up, little finger extended, the other fingers curled tightly toward his palm, and fired a burst of laser fire at each of the two Trofts' foreheads.
Only neither alien dropped over dead. Instead, the transparent faceplates blackened at the points of impact, blocking off the main brunt of the blasts.
