by Timothy Zahn
Timothy Zahn - Cobra 03 - Cobra Bargain
Chapter 1
"Governor Moreau?"
Deep in personal combat with the official bafflegab staring out at him from his reader, Governor Corwin Jame Moreau switched mental gears with an effort and turned his attention to his intercom. It made for a pleasant change; Thena
MiGraw's face was a lot nicer to look at than Directorate papers. "Yes, Thena?"
"Sir, Justin is here. Shall I have him wait a few minutes?"
Corwin grimaced. Shall I have him wait. Translation: should she give Corwin a few minutes to prepare himself. Typically perceptive of Thena... but Corwin had already stalled this confrontation off a couple of days, and if he wasn't ready now, he never would be. "No, go ahead and send him in," he instructed her.
"Yes, sir."
Corwin took a deep breath, straightening himself in his chair and reaching over to shut off the reader. A moment later the door opened and Justin Moreau strode briskly into the room.
Strode briskly; but to Corwin's experienced eye the subtle beginnings of Cobra
Syndrome were already starting to show in his brother's movements. The ceramic laminae coating Justin's bones, the implanted weaponry, servos, and joint strengtheners-after twenty-eight years his body was beginning to react to all of it, precipitating the arthritis and anemia that would, a decade or two from now, bring his life to a premature end. Corwin winced in sympathetic pain, wishing for the millionth time that there was something he could do to alter the inevitable. But there wasn't. Like his father before him, Justin had chosen this path willingly.
And like the late Jonny Moreau, he had also chosen to accept his fate with quiet dignity, keeping his pain to himself whenever possible and quietly deflecting any offers of sympathy. In Corwin's opinion, it was a counterproductive approach, serving mainly to increase the Moreau family's collective sense of frustration and helplessness. But he understood his brother well enough to know they had to grant him his choice of how to face the long and painful path ahead.
"Justin," Corwin nodded in greeting, reaching across the desk to offer his brother his hand. "You're looking good. How are you feeling?"
"Pretty good," Justin said. "Actually, I suspect that at the moment you're suffering more from Cobra Syndrome than I am."
Corwin felt his lip twist. "Caught the debate on the pub/info net last night, I see."
Justin made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. "All of it I could stomach, anyway. Which wasn't very much. Is Priesly as much of a phrijpicker in private as he is in public?"
"I almost wish he was. I'd actually be happier if he and the rest of the Jects were simply the frothing idiots they look like on the net-if they were we'd have found their strings years ago." Corwin sighed. "No, unfortunately Priesly is as sharp as he is gantua-headed, and now that he's finally hammered the Jects into a real political force he sees himself as holding the balance of power in both the Council and Directorate. That's heavy stuff for someone who considers himself an outcast, and he sometimes goes a little overboard."
"Does he?" Justin asked bluntly. "Hold the balance of power, I mean?"
Corwin shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "With his pack of sore losers trying to stir up a full-fledged crisis none of the Syndics or Governors seem quite sure of how to handle him. If Priesly offers them a deal that would henceforth keep him quiet..." He shook his head. "It's conceivable they might go for it."
"We still need the Cobras," Justin interjected with some heat. "Need them more than ever, in fact. WithEsquiline and the other New Worlds expanding like crazy, they need a steady supply of Cobras. Not to mention the need to keep a credible Cobra force here in case some group of Trofts decide to-"
"Easy, brother," Corwin cut him off, hands held palm outward. "You're preaching to the converted, remember?"
"Sorry," Justin growled. "Priesly's pack has a way of getting under my skin. I wish someone had realized sooner that the Jects were a political powder keg waiting for a flicker to come along. That should have been obvious as soon as we found out about Cobra Syndrome."
"Hindsight is wonderful, isn't it?" Corwin said dryly. "What would you have done, then?"
"Given them the regular nanocomputer and made them full Cobras in the first place," Justin growled. "It's just a waste of time, energy, and expensive equipment to have them running around with bone laminae and servos their computer won't let them use."
Corwin cocked an eyebrow. He'd heard variants of that argument before, but never from Justin. "You don't really mean that."
"Why not?" Justin countered. "Okay, so the training period uncovered psychological problems the pre-screening had missed. So what? Most of the glitches weren't all that severe; given time, they'd probably have worked things out eventually by themselves."
"And what about the harder cases?" Corwin asked. "Would you really have taken the risk of turning potentially unstable Cobras loose on the general population?"
"We could have handled that," Justin said doggedly. "They could have been assigned out of the way somewhere-permanent spine leopard hunting duty, maybe, or the really tricky cases could have been sent toCaelian. If they didn't work out their problems, eventually they'd have done something stupid and gotten themselves killed."
"And if they weren't so cooperative?" Corwin asked quietly. "If they decided instead that they were being dumped on and went after revenge?"
Some of the energy went out of Justin's face. "Yeah," he sighed. "And then it would be Challinor all over again."
A shiver went up Corwin's back. Tors Challinor's attempted treason had occurred well over half a century ago, before he'd even been born... but he remembered the stories his parents had told him about that time. Remembered them as vividly as if he'd been there himself. Jonny had made sure of that; the incident had carried some vital truths, and he hadn't wanted them to ever get lost.
"Challinor, or worse," he told Justin soberly. "Remember that this time it wouldn't have been basically stable Cobras pushed by idiot bureaucracy to take matters into their own hands. It would have been flawed Cobras, and a hell of a lot more of them." He took a deep breath, willing the memories away. "Agreed,
Priesly is a nuisance; but at least as a Ject all he can go for is political power."
"I suppose you're right," Justin sighed. "It's just that... never mind. As long as we're on the subject, though-" Digging into his tunic pocket, he pulled a magcard out and tossed it onto the desk. "Here's our latest proposal for how to close the remaining gaps in the prelim psych tests. I figured as long as I was coming over here anyway I'd give you an advance copy."
Corwin took the magcard, trying not to grimace. A perfectly reasonable thing for
Justin to do, and under normal circumstances nothing for anyone to complain about. But things in the Council and Directorate weren't exactly normal at the moment. Advance notice. Corwin could just hear what Priesly and his allies would say about this. "Thanks," he told Justin, placing the magcard over by his reader. "Though I may not get time to look at it until after the rest of the
Council get their copies, anyway."
Justin's forehead furrowed slightly. "Oh? Well, it's hardly going to make a big splash, I'm afraid. We're projecting to go from a seven-percent post-surgery rejection rate to maybe a four, four and a half percent rate."
Corwin nodded heavily. "About what we expected. No chance of getting things any tighter?"
Justin shook his head. "The psych people aren't even sure we can get it this tight. The problem is that having Cobra gear implanted in people sometimes... changes them."
"I know. It's better than nothing, I suppose." For a moment there was silence.
Corwin's gaze drifted out his window, to the Capitalia skyline. That skyline had c
hanged a lot in the twenty-six years since he'd struck out on his own into the maze that was Cobra Worlds politics. Unfortunately, other things had changed even more than the skyline. Lately he found himself spending a lot of time staring out that window, trying to recapture the sense of challenge and excitement he'd once felt about his profession. But the bootstrapping seldom worked. Somewhere along the line, pushed perhaps by Priesly's public bitterness,
Cobra Worlds politics had taken on a hard edge Corwin had never before experienced. In many ways it had soured the game for him-turned both his victories and defeats a uniform bittersweet gray-and made the governorship a form of combat instead of a means for aiding the progress of his worlds.
It brought to mind thoughts about his father, who had similarly soured on politics late in life, and more and more often these days he found himself fantasizing about chucking the whole business and escaping to Esquiline or one of the other New Worlds.
But he couldn't, and he knew it. As long as the Jects' sour grapes were threatening the foundation of the Cobra Worlds' security and survival, someone had to stay and fight. And he'd long ago realized that he was one of those someones.
Across the desk from him Justin shifted slightly in his chair, breaking the train of Corwin's musings. "I assume you had a specific reason for asking me here?" he probed gently.
Corwin took a deep breath and braced himself. "Yes, I did. I heard from
Coordinator Maung Kha three days ago about Jin's application to the Academy. He was..." He hesitated, trying one last time to find a painless way to say this.
"Summarily rejecting it?" Justin offered.
Corwin gave up. "She never had a chance," he said bluntly, forcing himself to look his brother straight in the eye. "You should have realized that right from the start and not let her file it."
Justin didn't flinch. "You mean there's no reason to try and change an unfair policy simply because it is policy?"
"Come on, Justin-you teach out there, for heaven's sake. You know how traditions hang on. Especially military traditions."
"I also know that those traditions started back in the Old Dominion of Man,"
Justin countered. "We haven't exactly been noted for blindly adopting their methods in anything else. Why should the military be immune?"
Corwin sighed. Various combinations of Moreau family members had hashed through all this in one form or another dozens of times over the past few years, ever since Justin's youngest daughter had first decided she wanted to follow in her father's Cobra footsteps. Like Justin's father before him... and Corwin was well aware that, for the Moreaus at least, family tradition wasn't something to be treated lightly.
Unfortunately, most of the others on the Council didn't see it that way.
"Military tradition is always particularly hidebound," he told Justin. "You know it, I know it, the worlds know it. It comes of having conservative old people like you at the top running things."
Justin ignored the attempt at levity. "But Jin would be a good Cobra, possibly even a great Cobra-and that's not just my opinion. I've given her the standard screening tests-"
"You've what?" Corwin cut him off, aghast. "Justin-damn it all, you know better than that. Those tests are exclusively for the use of the Academy."
"Spare me the lecture, please. The point is that she scored in the top five percent of the acceptance range. She's better equipped, mentally and emotionally, than ninety-five percent of the people we've accepted."
"Even granting all that," Corwin sighed, "the point remains that she's a woman, and women have never been Cobras."
"Up till now they haven't-"
"Governor!" Thena MiGraw's voice on the intercom cut him off. "There's a man coming-"
And behind Justin the door slammed open and a stranger leaped into the office.
"Destroy the Cobras!" he shrieked.
Corwin froze, the sheer unexpectedness of it holding him in place for those first crucial seconds. The intruder took a few rapid steps into the room, arms waving, raving just short of incomprehensibility. Out of the corner of his eye
Corwin saw that Justin had dropped out of his chair, spinning on his heels into a crouch facing the intruder. "All right, hold it!" the Cobra snapped. His hands were up, the little fingers with their implanted lasers tracking the man.
But if the other heard Justin's command, he ignored it. "The Cobras are the destruction of freedom and liberty," he screamed, taking yet another step toward
Corwin. "They must be destroyed!" His right hand swung in a wide circle toward
Corwin's face and then dipped into his tunic pocket-
And Justin's outstretched fingers spat needles of light directly into his chest.
The man shrieked, an oddly gurgling sound. His knees buckled, slamming him to the floor. With an effort, Corwin shook off his stunned paralysis and jabbed at the intercom. "Thena! Security and a med team, fast."
"Already called them, Governor," she said, her own voice trembling with shock.
Justin had stepped to the intruder's side and knelt down beside him. "Alive?"
Corwin asked, holding his breath as his brother's fingers touched the other's neck.
"Yeah. At least for the moment. Any idea what the hell that was all about?"
"None. Let's let Security sort it out." Corwin took a deep breath, let it out carefully. "Glad you were here. Thanks."
"No charge. Let's find out what kind of gun he was carrying..." Justin reached into the intruder's tunic pocket... and an odd expression settled onto his face.
"Hell," he said, very softly.
"What?" Corwin snapped, getting to his feet.
Still kneeling beside the wounded man, Justin gazed down at him. "He's unarmed."
Chapter 2
Cari Moreau slouched back in her lounge chair, a seventeen-year-old's version of a martyr's expression plastered across her face. "Aw, come on, Jin," she complained. "Again?"
Jasmine Moreau-"Jin" to her family and everyone else she could persuade to use the nickname-gazed at her younger cousin with a combination of patience, affection, and rock-solidness, "Again," she said firmly. "You want to pass this test or don't you?"
Cari sighed theatrically. "Oh, all right. Slavemaker. Misk'rhe'ha solfowp'smeaf, pierec'eay'kartoh-"
"That's 'khartoh,' " Jin interrupted. "Kh-sound, not k. And the initial 'p' in
'pierec'eay'khartoh' is aspirated." She demonstrated. "The difference between p-sounds in 'pin' and 'spin.' "
"I don't hear any difference," Cari grumbled. "And I'll bet Ms. Halverson won't, either."
"Maybe she won't, no," Jin agreed. "But if you ever plan to use your catertalk on any Trofts, you'd better be sure to get it right."
"So who says I'm planning to use it on any Trofts?" Cari grumbled. "Any Trofts I run into are gonna understand Anglic."
"You don't know that," Jin shook her head. "Traders or demesne representatives assigned to the Worlds will, sure. But who says you're never going to wind up somewhere out in space with only Trofts who snargled off in their language lessons, too?"
That got her a snort from her cousin. "That's easy for you to say. You're gonna be the Cobra zipping around out there, not me. Of course you're gonna need to know catertalk and Qasaman and all."
Jin felt a lump rise to her throat. Of all her relatives, Cari was the only one who was truly enthusiastic about her Cobra ambitions... and the only one who took for granted that she would achieve them. On that latter point even Jin's father had trouble, and Jin could remember times when only a long private talk with Cari had kept those hopes and dreams alive...
And with a jolt she realized that the younger girl had neatly deflected the conversation into a right angle. "Never mind what I'm going to need," she growled with mock irritation. "At the moment it's you who needs to know this stuff, because you're the one who's going to be tested on it tomorrow. Again-and remember the asperated-p in pierec'eay'khartoh this time. You pronounce it the wrong way to a Troft and he's either goi
ng to fall over laughing or else challenge you to a duel."
Cari perked up a bit. "Why?-is it something dirty the way I said it?" she asked eagerly.
"Never mind," Jin told her. The error was, in fact, a fairly innocuous one, but she had no intention of telling her cousin that. She could remember back three years to when she'd been seventeen herself, and a slight hint of wickedness might help spice up a course Cari clearly considered to be deathly dull. "Let's try it again," she said. "From the top."
Cari took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Misk'rhe-"
Across the room the phone warbled. "I'll get it," Cari interrupted herself, bounding with clear relief out of her chair and racing toward the instrument.
"...Hello?... Oh, hi, Fay. Jin!-it's your sister."
