by Timothy Zahn
Chapter 35
It was a fifty-kilometer drive from Azras to Mangus, along a road that was clearly newer and in better shape than the highway Jin had jogged alongside earlier that morning. Neither Nardin nor the driver spoke to her throughout the trip, which gave her little to do but study the scenery outside and—more surreptitiously—the two of them.
Neither examination was all that impressive. Nardin rode impassively, eyes flicking to her occasionally but generally staying on the road ahead. The driver, too, seemed stiff and distant, even toward Nardin. Their few exchanges were short and perfunctory, and she could sense none of the easy camaraderie that she'd seen between Daulo and his own driver. A strict master/servant relationship, she decided eventually, without a scrap of friendship or even mutual respect to it. In retrospect, given her first impression of Nardin four days previously, it wasn't all that unexpected.
The landscape outside wasn't quite as unfriendly, but it more than made up for that in sheer dullness, consisting mainly of flat tree-dotted plains. Further to the east, she knew, the dense forest that surrounded Milika began again, extending across Qasama to the villages at the opposite end of the Fertile Crescent. But here, at least, the forest had failed to take.
Which meant that there would be far fewer deadly predators between them and Azras, should she and Daulo need to get out of Mangus in a hurry. Fewer beasts, and considerably less cover. All things considered, she would have preferred to take her chances with the predators.
Mangus was visible long before they reached it . . . and the satellite photos hadn't nearly done the place justice. From what she could see of the high black wall surrounding it, the compound appeared to be shaped roughly like a diamond, in sharp contrast to the circular shape of Milika and the villages her father had visited on Qasama. The diamond's long ends seemed to point southeast and northwest—along the direction of the planet's magnetic field, she decided, remembering the similarly angled streets in Azras and the other cities. Qasama's migrating bololin herds took their direction from magnetic field lines, and builders either had to deflect the huge beasts around human habitations or else give them as free a passage as possible.
Impressive as the wall was, though, it paled in comparison to the shimmering dome-shaped canopy arching over it.
The Cobra Worlds' satellites hadn't been able to make much of the canopy. It was metal or metal coated; it wasn't solid, but a tightly woven double mesh of some sort whose varying interference patterns actually blocked the probes more effectively than a solid structure would have; and it was almost entirely opaque to every electromagnetic wavelength the satellites were able to work with.
Now, seeing it at ground level, Jin found she couldn't add much more to that list. It was anchored, she could see, by tall black pylons set into the ground outside the wall, which were in turn held in place by pairs of guy cables. How the canopy was being held up in the center was still a mystery, especially since its slight but visible rippling in the wind showed it to be more akin to fabric than to rigid metal. She was peering toward it, trying to see through the slight gap between its lower edge and the upper part of the wall, when a movement past the wall to her left caught her eye. Keying her optical enhancers to telescopic, she focused on it.
It was a bus. Identical to the ones that had been waiting to bring Daulo and his fellow workers to Mangus . . . except that this one was heading northward on a different road. As was the bus that followed it. And the next. And the next.
"They're going to Purma," Radig Nardin said into her thoughts. Startled, she looked at him, to find him gazing hard at her.
"I see, Master Nardin," she said, remembering to show proper respect. "May I ask who they are?"
His forehead creased a fraction more. "Last week's workers. On their way home."
Jin hesitated. Another question might be out of Qasaman character . . . but, then, she'd already established herself as an anomaly, anyway. "Do you hire from Purma often?"
"Every other week or so," he said. "It alternates with the hiring from Azras."
"I see." Carefully, Jin settled back into her seat, returning her eyes to the wall and dome ahead. So Mangus did have enough work to keep what amounted to a full-time force busy. So why didn't they simply go ahead and hire permanent workers, instead of going through all this trouble every week?
They had passed the line of pylons now, and as they neared the end of the road a gateway swung open up in the wall ahead. The only gateway on this side of the compound, she noticed, and built furthermore along the lines of a minor bank vault. Bololin-proof, for certain.
There were half a dozen buildings visible as the car drove through the gateway and into Mangus proper: an office-looking one directly ahead, a residence-type building beyond it, a guard station and garage flanking the road to right and left. But Jin saw them only peripherally. Her full attention was grabbed by the totally unexpected black wall rising off to her right.
It ran, as near as she could tell, between two of the diamond-shape's corners, cutting Mangus into two roughly equilateral triangles. A single gate was set into it at its center, a gate that looked to be just as strong as the one they'd just passed through. The only way into that section? she wondered, remembering that there'd been just one gateway into Mangus on the western part of the outer wall.
If so, that implied that Mangus's dark secrets came in two distinct shades. Now if only Radig's father Obolo Nardin kept his office beyond that internal wall . . .
But it wasn't going to be quite that easy. "The administrative center, Master Nardin?" the driver called over his shoulder.
"Yes," Radig said, looking at Jin. "You'll be given—" his eyes flicked down "—more suitable clothing before being brought before my father."
"Thank you, Master Nardin," Jin nodded gravely. Leaning slightly toward the window, she saw that another of the black pylons rose from the top of the interior wall, reaching upward to the center of the overhead canopy. The shield's primary support, clearly, with perhaps medium-strength ribs extending from it to the outside pylons to maintain the dome shape. Simple but effective. "I trust you'll provide me with transportation back to Azras once I've delivered my message," she added to Nardin.
He cocked an eyebrow. "That may depend," he said coolly, "on just what the message is."
* * *
They kept her waiting a long time, far longer than it took her to change into the clothes they'd given her. Long enough, in fact, that she was beginning to wonder if they were secretly monitoring her; and if so, when she as a supposedly busy professional ought to start looking annoyed at having her time wasted. But eventually someone came, and she was taken down a series of corridors to Obolo Nardin's throne room.
There was no other way to think of the place. Larger and far more elaborate than Kruin Sammon's study—larger even than the big-city mayor's office she'd seen tapes of—it was clearly designed to intimidate all who came in. A light breeze continually played across her face as she was led through and around the maze of hanging curtains to the center. A quick mental picture flashed across her mind, a picture of a spider waiting in the center of his web . . .
"What is your name?" the man on the cushion throne growled at her.
With an effort, Jin forced the spider image from her mind. I'm a Cobra, she reminded herself. Spiders aren't supposed to scare me. "I am Asya Elghani, Master," she said, making the sign of respect and studying his unnaturally bright eyes. Excessive use of Qasama's mind drugs? "Are you Obolo Nardin?"
The man's face didn't change . . . but an abrupt shiver ran up her back. "I am," he said. "What have you to say to me?"
Jin took a deep breath. This was it. Now if only he bought her performance. . . . Letting her face go slightly slack as if entering a hypnotic state, she dropped her voice an octave. "This is Kruin Sammon," she intoned. "I know what you are doing here in Mangus, Obolo Nardin, and I know what you are risking. With that knowledge I can destroy you . . . but I can also aid you. You need the resources I p
ossess, as well as the strength of the western villages whose loyalty I command. I propose therefore an alliance between us, with the rewards shared equally. I await your reply."
Carefully, Jin brought her eyes back into focus. "Did you receive the entire message, Master Nardin?" she asked in a normal voice again.
Obolo Nardin's eyes were steady on her face. "Indeed I did," he grunted.
"I've already been paid to bring Kruin Sammon a reply, should you wish to send one," she continued, struggling to keep her face and voice impassive. Deep in the back of her mind, alarm bells were beginning to go off. Something here wasn't quite right . . . "However, in that event, I would need time to prepare myself—"
And without warning the scene ahead of her was abruptly rimmed by red.
A jolt of adrenaline surged through her as, reflexively, she held her breath. Suddenly it all clicked: the long delay back at the changing room, the careful scrutiny Obolo Nardin was giving her, the breeze blowing in her face . . . a breeze undoubtedly laden with sleeping drug. They'd considered what to do with her, decided that the message cover was nonsense, and were taking the appropriate action.
At her sides, Jin's hands curled into fists, nails digging into the skin of her palms to ward off the drug's effect. She might be able to stun Obolo with her sonic and get out of here . . . but the hanging curtains could hide a hundred other men, and even now she couldn't afford to give herself away. On the other hand, she couldn't hold her breath forever, either, and she'd probably already inhaled enough of the stuff to put her under before she got too far, anyway. And Obolo was still staring at her. Still waiting . . .
Waiting for her to collapse? All right, she decided suddenly. "I—Master Nardin—" she began drunkenly, using the last of her reserve of air; and rolling her eyes up, she collapsed to the floor.
She'd made sure to let her head roll so as to face away from the direction of the sleep breeze, but the stars of her impact had barely cleared away before the air now playing at the back of her head was shut off anyway. Footsteps came slowly around one of the curtains . . . stopped at her side . . . "That was quick," Radig Nardin's voice said. "Even for a woman."
"She's a soft offworlder," Obolo replied contemptuously. "If this is the best our enemies can do, we have little to fear from them."
An iron spike seemed to drive itself up through Jin's stomach. God above—they know who I am! But how—?
"Perhaps." A hand pulled at Jin's shoulder, rolling her over on her back. Keeping her eyes closed, she activated her optical enhancers, keying for zero magnification and the lowest light-amp setting. Radig peered at her face a moment, then straightened up again to face his father. "I'll have her body searched for tiny instruments before we confine her."
"As you choose, my son, but I doubt there's any need."
"Her clothing yielded nothing—"
"You're forgetting the crash of her spacecraft," the elder Nardin cut his son off. "She carries no devices because none survived with her."
"Perhaps. Have you decided yet what to do about Daulo Sammon?"
"Why, nothing, of course—his father has offered us a deal," Obolo said, heavily sarcastic. "Didn't you hear his message?"
Radig glanced down at Jin again. "You'll forgive me, my father, if I fail to see any humor in the situation. Or do you consider it impossible that the Sammon family has in fact made an alliance with this spy?"
"Hardly impossible," Obolo grunted. "Unlikely, though."
"Then let me get rid of him," Radig urged. "As long as he's here, he presents a danger to us."
"True. Unfortunately, removing him at this point may be even more dangerous. Tell me, have you identified the man who came into Mangus with him?"
Radig's lip twitched. "Not yet. But he's probably just someone else from that bololin dropping of Milika."
" 'Probably' isn't good enough," Obolo said coldly. "The Shahni know the woman is on Qasama, and they know she stayed in the Sammon household while in Milika. This man could well be a Shahni agent assigned to Daulo Sammon, either as protector or as jailer."
"But in either case, why accompany Daulo Sammon here?"
"She is here, is she not? Whatever she and our enemies know or suspect, it's not impossible she might have shared that knowledge with Kruin Sammon."
"But then allowing an agent of the Shahni—"
"Radig Nardin." Obolo's voice was like the crack of a whip. "Control your fears and think. As far as the Shahni are concerned, Mangus is an electronics firm—nothing more. If we behave openly, they'll have no reason to doubt that. If, on the other hand, we make an inflated presentation of plucking Daulo Sammon from among the workers and throwing him outside our wall, will this agent's curiosity not be aroused?"
Radig took a deep breath. "It's still dangerous, my father."
"Of course it is. There's no profit without danger, my son. If your nerve threatens to fail you again, concentrate on that."
"Yes, my father." Radig glowered down at Jin. "And for what potential gain do we risk keeping this one alive?"
Obolo snorted. "You consider keeping a woman alive to be a risk?"
"She's not a normal woman, my father—she's an agent of the Cobra Worlds. That makes her dangerous."
Abruptly, Jin noticed that the red border was still around her vision . . . that it was, in fact, getting thicker . . . as the view itself seemed to be fading away . . .
No! she told herself furiously, trying to fight the sleep flowing over her mind. Come on, Jin—hang on. But it was too hard to muster the necessary emotion. And it was so comfortable here on the floor . . .
Her last memory was that of rough hands digging under her armpits and legs, lifting her up and floating her away . . .
Chapter 36
" . . . The screen in front of each of you will display a brief summary of each of the steps I've just outlined," the instructor concluded his presentation, waving his hand over his podium toward the rows of equipment-laden tables in front of him. "If you have any questions tap the 'help' key; if that still doesn't do it, tap the 'signal' key and someone will come to your work station. Any questions? All right, then. Get to it, and remember that the future of communication on Qasama may depend on you."
Shifting his eyes to the screen attached to the work table, Daulo suppressed a grimace and picked up a circuit board and a handful of components. He hadn't really expected to be given a missile casing and told to load a warhead onto it . . . but assembling telephone circuitry was hardly what he'd hoped for, either. "Not wasting any time getting us to work, are they?" he murmured.
He glanced to the side in time to see Akim's shrug. "They're paying all of us quite well," he pointed out.
Daulo gritted his teeth and plugged the first component into the circuit board. He'd been trying to pique Akim's curiosity about Mangus itself ever since being ushered off the bus, and had yet to make any impression on the man. Akim was on the trail of a female offworlder, and he clearly had no intention in being distracted from that single-minded path. "At least it explains why they don't bother hunting down their previous workers," Daulo commented, trying another approach. "If everything they do here is this simple-minded it's just as easy to teach a new group from the beginning."
Akim glanced up and around, and for a moment Daulo hoped he might argue the point. But he merely nodded. "Inefficient, to some degree, but not overly so," he said, and returned his attention to his own circuit board. "Certainly helps spread a little extra wealth around to Azras's poor."
"Right," Daulo muttered under his breath. "Obolo Nardin is just as noble as all creation."
"If I were you," Akim said coldly, "I'd try and forget my village prejudices and concentrate on the task at hand. Do you see anyone here who could be the woman in disguise?"
With a sigh, Daulo gave the room a careful scan, the image of Jin getting into Radig Nardin's car rising up to haunt him. "I don't think so."
"Keep an eye out," Akim told him. "They may occasionally rotate workers between gro
ups."
Daulo nodded and turned back to his work.
It was perhaps an hour later when he suddenly noticed Akim had stopped working and was gazing straight ahead into space. "Something?" he asked.
Akim turned sharply to look at him. "Something's wrong," he whispered hoarsely. "There's—" he licked his lips, eyes darting all around him. "Don't you feel it?"
Daulo leaned close, fighting against the sudden dread rising in his throat. Akim's barely controlled panic was contagious. "I don't understand. What is it you're feeling?"
Akim drew a shuddering breath. "Treachery," he said, hands visibly trembling. "There's . . . treachery here. Don't you feel it?"
Daulo threw a quick look around the room. So far no one else seemed to have noticed them, but that wouldn't last long. "Come on," he said, getting to his feet and gripping Akim's arm. "Let's get out of here."
Akim shrugged off his hand. "I can manage myself," he snarled, standing up unsteadily.
"Whatever you want," Daulo gritted. The door they'd come in by was all the way at the back of the room; much closer was another exit near the front podium. Taking Akim's arm again as the other staggered slightly, he headed that way.
The instructor intercepted them as they got to the door. "Where are you going?" he demanded. "The exit is back that—"
"My friend is sick," Daulo cut him off. "Is there a lavette out there somewhere?"
The other seemed to draw back, and Daulo took advantage of his hesitation to push past. Outside was a corridor he hadn't seen on their way into the building, with a heavy-looking door at the far end. Halfway toward it was the lavette he'd hoped for; guiding Akim through the door, he all but pushed the other down onto a cushion in the lounge section.
For a long moment neither man spoke. Akim took several slow, deep breaths, checked his fingers for signs of trembling, and after a bit rose and studied his face in the mirror. Only then did he finally look Daulo in the eye. "You didn't feel it, did you?" he demanded. "You didn't feel anything in there?"
