Timothy Zahn - Cobra 01 - Cobra

by Cobra(lit)

  "Could some disease have shown up in our last shipment?" Chrys asked, holding his shirt for him. "A lot of those commercial carriers only take minimal precautions."

  "If it had, they'd probably have specified that they'd stay aboard their ship while it was being serviced." Jonny grimaced as he backed into the sleeves, trying to keep the sudden pain from showing.

  Chrys noticed anyway. "Dad called this afternoon to remind you again about getting that checkup," she said.

  "What for?" Jonny growled. "To hear him tell me my anemia and arthritis are still getting worse? I already know that." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Chrys. I know

  I should go see Orrin, but I truly don't know what good it would do. I'm paying the price for being a superman all these years, and that's all there is to it."

  She was silent for a long moment, and in a way her surface calm was more disturbing than the periodic outbursts of bitterness and rage that had occurred over the first months of his condition. It meant she'd accepted the fact that he couldn't be cured and was sublimating her own pain to help him and their three sons handle theirs. "You'll call when you know what's going on?" she asked at last.

  "Sure," he promised, relieved at the change of subject. But only for a moment... because there was only one reason he could think of for the behavior of that ship out there. And if he was right, progressive anemia was likely to be the least of his worries.

  Five minutes later he was driving toward the starfield. Beyond the glow of the streetlights, in the darkened city, the ghosts of Adirondack seemed to be gathering.

  Tammerlaine Wrey was the image of the middle-level Dome bureaucrats that had been the favorite target of political caricaturists when Jonny was growing up.

  Paunchy and soft, with expensive clothes in better shape than he was, he had that faintly condescending air that frontier people often claimed to sense in all mainstream Dominion citizens.

  And his news was as bad as it could possibly be.

  "Understand, we'll be doing what we can to draw off the bulk of the Troft forces," he said, waving a finger at the curved battle front on the Star Force tactical map he'd brought with him. "But while we'll be keeping them pretty busy, it's unlikely they'll forget about you completely. The Joint Command's best estimate is that you can expect anywhere from twenty to a hundred thousand troops on your three planets within a year."

  "My God!" Syndic Liang Kijika gasped. "A hundred thousand? That's a quarter of our combined populations."

  "But you have nearly twenty-four hundred Cobras," Wrey pointed out. "A hundred thousand Trofts shouldn't be too much for them to handle, if past experience proves anything."

  "Except that almost seventy percent of those Cobras have never seen any sort of warfare," Jonny put in, striving to keep his voice calm as the memories of

  Adirondack swirled like swamp vapor through his mind. "And those who have are likely to be unfit for duty by the time the attack comes."

  " 'Those who can't do, teach,' " Wrey quoted. "Your veterans ought to be able to whip them into shape in a few months. Gentlemen, I didn't come here to run your defense for you-it's your people and your world and you'll undoubtedly do a better job of it than I or anyone else on Asgard could. I came here solely to give you a warning of what was coming down and to bring back the dozen or so

  Dominion citizens that the ban on commercial travel has stranded here."

  "We're all Dominion citizens," Tamis Dyon snarled.

  "Of course, of course," Wrey said. "You know what I mean. Anyway, I'll want those people packed and on my ship within six hours. I have their names, but you'll have to find them for me."

  "What's being done to try and prevent the war?" Jonny asked.

  Wrey frowned slightly. "It's beyond prevention, Governor-I thought I'd made that clear."

  "But the Central Committee is still talking-"

  "In order to delay the outbreak long enough for you to prepare."

  "What do you mean, prepare?" Dyon snapped, rising half out of his seat. "What the hell are we going to do-build antiaircraft guns out of cyprene trees? You're condemning us to little more than a choice of deaths: murder by the Trofts or the slow strangulation of a closed supply pipeline."

  "I am not responsible for what's happened," Wrey shot back. "The Trofts started this, and you ought to be damned glad the Committee was willing to back you up.

  If it hadn't, you'd have been overrun years ago." He paused, visibly regaining his control. "Here's the list of people I'm authorized to bring back," he said, sliding a magcard across the table toward Jonny. "Six hours, remember, because the Menssana's leaving in-now-eleven."

  Slowly, Jonny reached across the table and picked up the magcard. The die was apparently cast... but there was too much at stake to just sit and do nothing.

  "I'd like to talk to Governor-General Stiggur about sending an emissary back with you," he said. "To find out what's really going on."

  "Out of the question," Wrey shook his head. "In the first place we stand an even chance of getting hit by the Trofts before we ever reach Dominion space; and even if we get through, your emissary would just be trapped there. The Corridor hasn't a prayer of staying open long enough for him to return, and he'd just be dead weight on Asgard."

  "He could function as a consultant on conditions here," Jonny persisted. "You admitted yourself you don't really know us."

  "A consultant to what end? Are you expecting the Star Force to launch a backup assault through a hundred light-years of Troft territory?" Wrey glanced around the table at the others and stood up. "Unless there are any more questions, I'm going back to the Menssana for a while. Please inform me when Governor-General

  Stiggur arrives." Nodding, he strode briskly from the room.

  "Doesn't care falx droppings for us, does he?" Kijika growled. His fingertips were pressed hard enough against the tabletop to show white under the nails.

  "It's not going to matter much longer what he or anyone else in the Dominion thinks about us," Dyon said grimly.

  "Maybe we can postpone that a bit," Jonny told him, handing Dyon the magcard.

  "Would you give this to Theron Yutu and have him start locating these people? I have an important call to make."

  Governor-General Brom Stiggur was still en route to Capitalia, but he was within constant range of the Hap-2 communications satellite now and the picture was crystal clear. Not that it mattered, really-Stiggur's expression was exactly as

  Jonny had expected it to be. "So that's it, then," the other said when Jonny had summarized Wrey's doomsday message. "The Trofts have finally gotten their courage up for round two. Damn them all to hell." He snorted. "Well, what's it going to take to get us ready for a siege?"

  "More time than we've got," Jonny said bluntly. "To be brutally honest, Brom, I don't think we've got an icecube's chance on Vega if the Trofts decide they really want us. The new Cobras are our only defense and they know less than nothing about warfare."

  Stiggur grimaced. "Should we be discussing this on a broadcast signal-?"

  "We're going to keep all this a secret?"

  "Not hardly," Stiggur conceded. "All right, Jonny-you didn't call just to give me advance notice of Armageddon. What do you want?"

  Jonny swallowed hard. "Permission to return with Wrey to Asgard and see what can be done to hold off the war."

  Stiggur's eyebrows lifted toward his hairline. "Don't you think they've done everything possible in that direction already?"

  "I don't know. How can we unless we talk directly to the Central Committee or

  Joint Command?"

  Stiggur exhaled loudly. "We need you here."

  "You know better than that. I can't fight worth a damn anymore, and there are a lot of First Cobras with better military and tactical knowledge."

  "What about your family, then?" Stiggur asked quietly. "They need you."

  Jonny took a deep breath. "Twenty-nine years ago I left all the family I had then to fight for people I didn't even know. How can I pas
s up even the slimmest chance now to save the lives of not only my wife and children, but virtually all the friends I've ever had?"

  Stiggur gazed at him for a long minute, his expression giving away nothing of what was going on behind it. "Much as I hate to admit it, I suppose you're right," he finally said. "I'll recommend to this Wrey character that he take you along. Uh... another half-hour to Capitalia, looks like. I should have his answer in an hour or so. In the meantime-" He hesitated. "You'd better let Yutu handle things and go discuss this with Chrys."

  "Thanks, Brom. I'd already planned to do that."

  "I'll talk to you whenever I know something." He nodded and the screen went blank.

  Sighing, Jonny carefully flexed his rebellious elbows and punched for Yutu.

  They all sat quietly in the softly lit living room as Jonny explained both the bad news and his proposed response to the crisis; and as he gazed at each member of his family in turn, he was struck as never before by the contrasting personalities their expressions revealed. Justin and Joshua, huddled together on the couch, showed roughly equal parts of fear and unquestioning trust, a mixture that was painfully reminiscent of his sister Gwen's childhood hero-worship. By contrast, Corwin's face belied his thirteen years as he clearly struggled to find an adult perspective into which he could submerge his own feelings of dread. Very like Jame, who'd always seemed older than his own biological age.

  And Chrys...

  Chrys was as she always was, radiating a quiet strength and support toward him even while her eyes ached with the fear and pain a permanent separation would bring her. An acceptance of his plan based not on submission of any kind, but on the simple fact that her mind worked the same as his did and she could see just as clearly that it was something that had to be tried.

  He finished his explanation, and for a few moments the silence was broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioning. "When'll you be leaving, Dad?" Corwin asked at last.

  "If I go, it'll be today," Jonny answered. "They'll want to leave as soon as the ship's refueled and all."

  "Are you going to take Almo or someone with you?"

  Jonny smiled briefly. Almo Pyre had been one of the first volunteers through

  D'arl's Cobra factory, and with his fierce loyalty toward Jonny and the entire

  Moreau family, he'd been a natural role model for Corwin to latch onto. "I don't think we'll have any problems on the way back," he told his son. "Besides which, your father's not that helpless yet." Steeling himself, he turned to Chrys. Her loyalty toward him deserved at least as much back. "I've explained all of what I know and think, and why I feel I should go," he told her. "But if, after hearing it, you think I should stay, I'll do so."

  She smiled sadly. "If you don't understand me better than that by now-"

  The abrupt ring from the phone made them all jump. Getting carefully to his feet, Jonny went to his desk and flipped the instrument on. "Yes?"

  It was Stiggur. "Sorry, Jonny, but no go. Wrey steadfastly refuses to clutter his ship with useless colonial officials. His words."

  Jonny exhaled slowly. "Did you explain how important it could be?"

  "Loudly enough to scare a gantua. He simply refuses to consider anything even marginally outside his orders."

  "Then maybe I'd better talk to him again myself. Do I still have your authorization to go?"

  "I guess so. But it's all academic now."

  "Perhaps. I'll get back to you."

  He disconnected and started to punch for the starfield... but halfway through the motion he paused and turned to look at Chrys.

  Her eyes gazed at his, and through them to whatever pain she saw in the future.

  But though her lips seemed made of wood, her voice was firm enough. "Yes. Try."

  He held her eyes another second, then turned back to the phone. A few moments later Wrey's face appeared. "Yes? Oh, it's you. Look, Governor-"

  "Mr. Wrey, I'm not going to repeat Governor-General Stiggur's arguments," Jonny interrupted him. "I don't care whether you can't see past your own nose and understand why this is important. The fact of the matter is that I'm coming with you to Asgard, and you can like it or not."

  Wrey snorted. "Oh, really? They call that a Titan complex back in Dome,

  Moreau-the belief that you can go ahead and defy authority any time you want to.

  I suggest you check on my status here and consider what would happen if you tried to barge past my Marines against my orders."

  Jonny shook his head. "I'm afraid it is you, sir, who's misunderstanding the legal situation here. Our charter clearly states that the governor-general may requisition a berth on any outgoing ship for purposes of consultation with

  Dominion officials. The charter makes no provision for exceptions."

  "I claim an exception anyway. If you don't like it, you can file a grievance with the Central Committee when the war's over."

  "I'm sorry, but it doesn't work that way. If you want to claim a legitimate exception, you'll have to present your case here, to Aventine's Council of

  Syndics."

  Wrey's eyes narrowed. "What does that entail?"

  Which meant the other had been on Asgard so long he'd forgotten how planet-level politics worked. For an instant Jonny was tempted to spin a genuine horror story, but quickly decided against it. Playing it straight was safer, and the truth was bad enough. "We'll first need to assemble all the Syndics-that's the easy part; they're all on the way here already. Then you'll present your credentials and your case and Governor-General Stiggur will present his. The council will discuss the situation and probably recess to make individual studies of the charter and try to find precedents in whatever Dominion records we have on file. Then they'll reassemble for a full debate, and when that's finished they'll vote. If the law seems to allow both sides of the case, a simple majority will suffice; but if the charter regulation I mentioned seems unopposed, then you'll need a three-quarters vote to grant you a one-time exception. The whole process will take-oh, maybe three to five days, minimum."

  From the look on Wrey's face, the other had already added up the times. "Suppose

  I refuse to cooperate with this little delaying tactic?"

  "You're free not to cooperate... but your ship doesn't lift until all this is resolved."

  "How are you going to stop me?"

  Reaching to the phone, Jonny tapped some keys, and a second later a new voice joined the circuit. "Pyre here."

  "Almo, this is Jonny Moreau. How's security setup going?"

  "All locked down, Governor," the younger Cobra told him.

  "Good. Please inform the night manager that there's no longer any rush to service the Dominion ship. It won't be leaving for a few more days."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Hold it, soldier," Wrey snapped. "I am a direct representative of the Central

  Committee, and on that authority I'm countermanding that order. Understand?"

  There was a short pause. "Governor, is his claim legitimate?"

  "Yes, but this specific action seems to violate a clear charter provision. It looks like it'll be going to the council."

  "Understood, sir. Servicing operations will be suspended immediately."

  "What?" Wrey barked. "Just a damned-"

  "Out, sir."

  A click signaled Pyre's departure, leaving the rest of Wrey's outburst to expend itself in thin air. He broke off, fixing Jonny with a furious glare. "You're not going to get away with this, Moreau. You can throw your Cobras against my armored Marines all day without-"

  "Are you suggesting a firefight in the vicinity of your ship, sir?" Jonny asked mildly.

  Wrey fell suddenly silent. "You won't get away with it," he repeated mechanically.

  "The law is on my side," Jonny said. "Frankly, Mr. Wrey, I don't see why this is really a problem. You obviously have the room to spare for me, and I've already showed you that you'll be both morally and legally in the clear if your superiors become annoyed. And who knows? Maybe they'l
l actually be glad I came along... in which case you'll get all the credit for such foresight."

  Wrey snorted at that, but Jonny could see in his face that he'd already opted for the simpler, safer course. "All right, what the hell. You want to cut out and spend the war on Asgard, that's none of my business. Just be here when the rest of the passengers show or I'll leave without you."

  "Understood. And thank you."

  Wrey snorted again and the screen went blank.

  Jonny exhaled slowly. Another minor victory... and as emotionally unsatisfying as all such political wins seemed to be. Perhaps, he thought, it was because no opponent was ever fully vanquished in this form of combat. They always got back up out of the dust, a little smarter and-often-a little madder each time. And