by Timothy Zahn
"Because you're not tied into the central underground communications network?"
He looked at her in surprise. "How—? Oh, that's right; you learned all about that when you took over that Eastern Arm village your last time through. Yes, that's a large part of it. And even though other villages are now starting to sprout up outside the Great Arc, we were one of the first." He eyed her. "This is all part of your research on us?"
Jin felt her face warming. "Some," she admitted. "It's also related to the problem of Mangus, though."
He was silent for a long moment. Shifting her eyes from the loading dock, Jin looked around her. It was a beautiful day, with gentle breezes coming from the southwest adding contrast to the warmth of the sunlight. The sounds of village activity all around her melded into a pleasant hum; the occasional clinking of chains and cables from the mine entrance nearby added to the voices of the workers.
It was almost a shock to shift her eyes westward and see the wall. The wall, and the metal mesh addition the village had had to erect against the high-jumping spine leopards . . . the spine leopards her people had sent to them.
On the recommendation of her own grandfather.
A sudden shiver of guilt ran up her back. What would Daulo and Kruin think, she wondered bleakly, if they knew her family's role in bringing this burden onto them? Maybe that's why I was marooned here in the first place, the thought occurred to her. Maybe it's part of a divine retribution on my family.
"You all right?" Daulo asked.
She shook off the train of thought. "Sure. Just . . . thinking about home."
He nodded. "My father and I were wondering last night about what plans your people might be making to get you back."
She shrugged uncomfortably. "They're not likely to be planning anything except my memorial service. The way the crash destroyed the shuttle's transmitters, there wasn't any way I could signal our mother ship; and between that and what they would have seen from orbit they'd have assumed that everyone was dead. So they'll go on back, and everyone will mourn us for awhile, and then the Directorate will start debating what to do next. Maybe in a few months they'll try this again. Maybe it won't be for a couple of years."
"You sound bitter."
Jin blinked away tears. "No, not bitter. Just . . . afraid of how my father's gong to take this. He wanted so much for me to be a Cobra—"
"A what?"
"A Cobra. It's the proper name for what you call a demon warrior. He wanted so much for me to follow in the family tradition . . . and now he'll wonder if he pushed me where I didn't want to go."
"Did he?" Daulo asked quietly.
Oddly enough, Jin felt no resentment at the question. "No. I love him a lot, Daulo, and I might have been willing to become a Cobra just from that love. But, no—I wanted this as much as he did."
Daulo snorted gently. "A warrior woman. Seems almost a contradiction in terms."
"Only by your history. And on our own worlds Cobras are more like civilian peacekeepers than fighters."
"Almost like what the mojos were to us," Daulo pointed out.
Jin considered. "Interesting analogy," she admitted.
He gave a sound that was half snort, half chuckle. "Just think of the sort of peacekeeper force we could have if we combined the two."
"Cobras and mojos?" She shook her head. "No chance. In fact, it's occurred to me more than once that that may be exactly the thought that scared our leaders the most: the idea that your mojos might spread to Aventine, that we might wind up having our Cobras controlled by alien minds."
"But if it would make them less dangerous—"
"The mojos have their own priorities and purposes," Jin reminded him. "I'd just as soon not find out what one might do with a Cobra."
Daulo sighed. "You're probably right," he conceded. "Still—"
"Master Sammon?" a voice called from behind them. They turned, and Jin saw Daulo's chauffeur waving to them from the doorway of the mine's business center. "A call for you. Important, he says."
Daulo nodded and set off at a brisk trot. Jin watched him take the chauffeur's place at the phone, then turned back to watch Nardin. Mangus. Mongoose. The name alone gave the lie to all her talk about city versus village warfare. A compound called Mongoose could have only one possible focus, and that was outward from Qasama. In the back of her mind, her conscience twinged: should she continue to let Daulo and his father believe that Mangus was a plot against the villages? Especially since they might withdraw their support from her if they knew the truth?
"Jasmine Alventin!"
She started and twisted around. Daulo was beckoning urgently to her as he opened the car's left-hand rear door; the chauffeur was already in the front seat. Heart thudding in her throat, Jin jogged over to join them. "What is it?" she asked, pulling open the right-hand door and sliding in the back beside Daulo.
"One of our people noticed a Yithtra family truck coming in by the south gate," Daulo said, his voice tight. "It had something like a tree trunk sticking from the back, covered with some kind of cloth so that it couldn't be seen.
Jin frowned. "An unusual tree they don't want anyone to see?"
"That's what our spotter thought. It occurred to me that there's something else of that shape that they might be even more anxious to hide from sight."
Jin's mouth went dry. A missile? "That's . . . crazy," she managed. "Where would they have gotten something like that?"
Daulo's eyes flicked to the chauffeur. "Whatever it is, I want to try and get a look at it."
The chauffer sped them down the spoke road to the Small Ring, turning counterclockwise onto it. "The simplest route would be to take the spoke road directly from the south gate to the Small Ring," Daulo muttered. "But in this case . . . I'm going to guess they'll turn instead onto the Great Ring and take it to the Yithtra section, then come down that spoke road to the house. What do you think, Walare?"
"Sounds reasonable, Master Daulo," the chauffeur nodded. "Shall I run that in reverse and see if we can catch them?"
"Right."
Guiding the vehicle expertly through the pedestrian crowds, Walare curved around the Inner Green, passed the spoke road from the south gate, and continued on toward the grand house Daulo had identified some days earlier as that of the Yithtra family. Another spoke road angled off just before it, and Walare turned down it. Jin looked back at the house as they headed away, noting the liveried guards at all the visible entrances—
"There," Daulo snapped, pointing at a small truck far ahead down the spoke road. Jin keyed in her optical enhancers for a look at the truck's three occupants. All three looked oddly tense, but none seemed especially suspicious of the car approaching them. A minute later the two vehicles passed each other, and Daulo and Jin both spun around in their places.
There was indeed something cylindrical poking awkwardly out from between the truck's rear doors; and it was indeed swathed heavily in some kind of silky white cloth. "Follow it," Daulo ordered Walare. "Well, Jasmine Alventin?" he added as the car swung into a tight U-turn.
Jin pursed her lips, trying to estimate the object's length and circumference. "It's not very big, if it's what we think it is," she told him. "Rather obvious, too."
"Point," Daulo admitted. "Especially since they've got regular log carriers they could have used to bring something like that in without it being seen at all. You think perhaps it is nothing but a tree trunk brought in to stir us up?"
Jin chewed at her lip. It might be possible to glean something even through all that cloth. "Let me try something," she said. Leaning her head out the side window, she keyed in her optical enhancers' infrared capability.
The reflection/radiation profile was strong and dramatic; and even with the background clutter from the truck and pavement around it, there was no room for doubt. "It's metal," she told Daulo.
He nodded grimly. "I'm sure you realize what this means. The Yithtra family's made a deal with Mangus."
"Or else they stole it. Which could get the whole vil
lage in trouble."
Daulo hissed between his teeth. "Trouble from agents seeking to retrieve it?"
Or straightforward retaliation, Jin thought. But there was no point in worrying Daulo with that one. "Basically," she told him. "On the other hand, we've now got a chance to pick up some information without having to go all the way to Mangus for it."
He stared at her. "Are you serious? We can't break into the Yithtra family house."
"I didn't think we could," Jin told him tightly. "That's why I'm going to have to do this here and now."
He said something incredulous sounding, but she was too busy thinking to pay attention. There were a dozen ways to take out a vehicle, but all of them would instantly brand her as a demon warrior. To their right, another of Milika's marketplaces stretched alongside the street, teeming with potential witnesses to anything she tried.
Potential witnesses . . . but also potential diversions. "Pull up closer to the truck," she ordered the chauffeur. "In a minute I'll want you to pass it."
"Master Daulo . . . ?" the other asked.
"Do it," Daulo confirmed. "Jin—?"
"I'm going to jump out as you start to pass and get into the truck," she told him, eyes searching across the marketplace booths ahead as she lowered the window. Somewhere out there had to be what she was looking for . . .
There—right beside the street fifty meters ahead: a group of six customers holding an animated discussion beside a vendor of food and drink . . . and four of the six carried mojos on their shoulders. "Pull up," she ordered Walare. "Daulo Sammon, I'll meet you back at the house." From the corner of her eye she saw them closing on the truck ahead; activating her target system, she locked onto the bellies of three of the mojos. Even in the glare of full daylight, she knew, it was going to be a calculated risk to fire even low-power shots from her fingertip lasers. But there wasn't anything she could do about that except cross her fingers and pray that no one noticed them. Walare had them directly behind the truck now, and was starting to pull around; and as the food booth shot past, Jin fired three shots in rapid succession.
It was all she could have hoped for. The birds' screams pierced the air like a triple siren, followed immediately by an equal number of human bellows. Jin got a quick glimpse of the scorched mojos tearing furiously around through the air as everyone nearby scrambled for safety from the birds' unexpected behavior; and as the sudden ruckus audibly spread behind her she wrenched the car door open and flipped her legs out onto the pavement. For a second she held onto the door for balance as her feet caught the stride; then, shoving the door shut, she surged forward. Her timing was perfect: with Walare halfway into his passing maneuver, her side of the car had been directly behind the truck, out of view of any rear-facing mirror. A two-second quick-sprint put her beside the cylinder's bouncing nose; grabbing the edge of one of the open doors, she pulled herself up and through the gap and into the welcome shadows inside the truck.
She took a shuddering breath, acutely aware of the time limit now counting down. In five minutes or less the truck would reach the Yithtra house, and if she didn't get out before then, she might very well have to shoot her way out. Crouching down beside the cylinder, she tore away its silky covering . . . and froze.
The cloth wasn't just cloth. It was light and tight-woven, with cords tied between it and the cylinder.
A parachute.
And the cylinder beneath it was smooth and white, with black scorch marks liberally splattered over its surface. Marks that nevertheless didn't obscure the lettering on the loosely fastened access panel:
TYPE 6-KX TRANSFER CONTAINER: FOR GOVERNMENTAL SHIPPING USE ONLY.
God above, she thought numbly. The Yithtra family hadn't bought or stolen a missile, after all. They'd found something far worse: a goodbye present from the Southern Cross.
A present for her.
Chapter 26
For a long second her mind seemed to be on ice, skidding along without control. The pod's existence was bad enough; but its existence in the hands of Qasamans was even worse. The minute the Yithtra family realized what it was they'd found and turned it over to the authorities—
And she had maybe three minutes to figure out a way to stop that. Gritting her teeth, she dug her fingers under the access panel's edge and pried it open.
The contents were no surprise: packaged emergency rations, lightweight blankets, medical packs, a backpack and water carrier—all the things a castaway in hostile territory might need to survive. All of them clearly labeled with Anglic words.
Which meant obscuring the writing on the outside of the pod wouldn't gain her anything. Unless she could also completely destroy the pod's contents . . .
A trickle of sweat ran down her cheek. She jabbed and probed her fingers through the packages, trying desperately to think of something. Her lasers weren't designed for starting this kind of fire, but if they'd sent her some cooking fuel—
Her roving fingers struck something that rustled: a tightly folded piece of paper. Frowning, she dug it out and opened it. The message was short:
Can't get down to you. If you can hang on, we'll be back with help as quickly as we can. We'll listen for your call at local sunrise, noon, sunset, and midnight—if you can't signal, we'll come down and find you.
Courage!
Captain Rivero Koja
Jin bit down hard on her lip. We'll come down and find you. In her mind's eye she saw a full Cobra assault force descend on Milika, shooting indiscriminately as they tried to find her . . . Swearing under her breath, she dug into the packages with renewed energy, searching now for the transmitter Koja's note implied had been packed in with the supplies. But either it was buried too deeply among the groceries . . .
Or else the Yithtra workers who'd found and opened the pod had already taken it out.
Damn. It was right there, a few meters away from her in the cab of the truck . . . and yet it might as well be in orbit. For one wild second she had the image of herself blasting through to the cab with her antiarmor laser, using her sonic to stun the cab's occupants and retrieve the transmitter—
And then taking what refuge she could in deep forest. While the Sammon family went up on treason charges.
Angrily, she shook the train of thought from her mind. The transmitter was gone, period. Crumpling Koja's note into her pocket, she jammed the access panel back in place and stepped to the rear doors, grabbing for balance as the truck made a sharp right-hand turn. Between the doors, the Small Ring Road appeared.
Which meant the truck had left the spoke road and would be reaching the gate of the Yithtra house any moment now. Licking her lips, Jin peered through the gap, trying to find something she could use to create a diversion. But nothing obvious presented itself. There were as many pedestrians out there as usual, and once out of the truck she ought to have enough cover to blend into. But there was nothing she could do to cover the jump itself. Clenching her teeth, she got ready; and as the truck abruptly decelerated, she swung down out the rear and dropped to the pavement below. A couple of braking steps brought her to a halt; turning quickly, she started walking down the road away from the Yithtra house.
No shouts of discovery followed her. Behind her, she heard the truck come to a brief halt and then start up again, vanishing behind the background hum of closing gateway doors. Fighting a trembling in her hands, she kept walking.
Eventually, after a wandering route, she reached the Sammon house.
* * *
Kruin Sammon laid the crumpled paper down on his desk and looked up at her. "So," he said. "It seems your anonymity is about to come to an end."
Jin nodded. "So it seems," she agreed tightly.
"I don't see why," Daulo objected from his usual place beside his father. "The Yithtra family can't really make trouble for you unless they can offer the Shahni some physical proof. Why can't you simply break into the Yithtra household tonight and destroy or steal the pod?"
Jin shook her head. "It wouldn't work. First of a
ll, there's a fair chance they'll have odds and ends from the pod scattered around throughout the house by then, and there's no guarantee I'd be able to retrieve all of it. More importantly, the very fact that I got in and out of a guarded house without being caught will be pretty strong evidence that I'm not just an offworlder, but an offworld demon warrior. I don't think we want to cause that kind of panic just yet."
"So the Yithtra family informs the Shihni that an offworlder has landed secretly among us." Kruin's eyes were steady on Jin's face. "And for their patriotism and alertness the Yithtra family gains new prestige. Is this how you help us bring them down?"
A wisp of anger curled like smoke in Jin's throat. "I realize you have your own priorities, Kruin Sammon," she said as calmly as she could, "but it seems to me you'd do better to forget about the Yithtra family earning a pat on the head and concentrate instead on the problems this might cause Milika as a whole."
"The problems it might cause you, you mean," Kruin countered. "We of Milika are blameless, Jasmine Moreau, if we are duped by a cunning offworlder into extending our hospitality."
Jin looked hard at him. "Are you abrogating our bargain, then?" she asked softly.
He shook his head. "Not if it can be helped. But if it should become clear that your capture is certain, I will not allow my household to be destroyed in the process." He hesitated. "If that happens . . . I'll at least give you warning."
So that any major firefights will take place away from Sammon territory? Still, it was as much as she could expect under the circumstances . . . and probably more than she would have gotten elsewhere. "I thank you for being honest with me," she said.
"Which is more than you have been with us," the elder Sammon said.
Jin's stomach began to tighten into a knot. "What do you mean?"
"I mean your true name," he said evenly. "And the connection of that name to Mangus."
Jin's eyes flicked to Daulo, feeling a sudden chill in the room. The younger man looked back at her steadily, his face as masked as Kruin's. "I never lied to you," she said, eyes still on Daulo. "To either of you."
