Cobra Traitor, page 31
part #3 of Cobra Rebellion Series
[A Troft slave transport, you arrived aboard it,] the Drim countered. [Your companion, a slave of the Balin’ekha’spmi demesne she was. The Balin’ekha’spmi demesne-lord, does he now threaten the Drim’hco’plai demesne with war?]
Merrick suppressed a grimace. Great. What was he supposed to say to that one? [The Balin’ekha’spmi demesne-lord, he and I have never met,] he said. That much, at least, was perfectly true. [War, I do not threaten it. My fellow humans, to free them is why I have come.]
[Your fellow humans, to die with them will be your end,] the Drim bit out, his membranes fluttering with agitation. He looked somewhere outside Merrick’s field of vision. [His preparation, inform me when it is complete.]
[The order, I obey it,] another Troft voice came from across the room.
The Drim looked back at Merrick. [Your service, I will eagerly await it,] he said. [Your death, I will await it even more.]
Turning, he stomped out of sight. Merrick keyed his audios, and a moment later heard a door close.
[Unpleasantness, I seem to have landed in it,] Merrick said quietly. [The situation, what is it?]
Kjoic glanced over at the other, unseen Troft. “The situation, it is volatile,” he said in Anglic.
Merrick frowned at the language switch. Then his fogged mind again caught, and he realized that the other Troft in the room probably wasn’t nearly as versed in the human language as the rest of them.
Just the same, it would probably be good to keep their voices low. “How volatile?” he asked.
“Very volatile,” Kjoic said. He paused, and Merrick saw the Troft turn his head a few degrees toward Anya.
This time Merrick was a little faster on the uptake. “Anya, is there any water in here?” he asked. “I’m really thirsty.”
“I will get it for you.” She eyed Kjoic a moment, making it clear that she wasn’t fooled in the least by the ruse, then walked out of Merrick’s view.
Kjoic waited another couple of seconds, then leaned in a little closer. “Ludolf and his humans are doing well,” he said quietly. “But they have neither the power nor the resources for a sustained battle. In the end, they will lose. But damage, they can inflict it upon the masters before that.”
“And the masters can inflict even more on them?”
Kjoic’s membranes twitched. “Yes,” he said. “Especially with you on their side.”
Merrick stared at him, his stomach knotting up. Of course. “The war drug,” he murmured. “They’re going to inject me with it and send me to attack Ludolf’s rebels.”
“Yes,” Kjoic said again. “They await only your full recovery from Ludolf Treetapper’s bersark trap.”
Merrick grimaced. But at least that gave him a little time to come up with something. The last time he’d inadvertently sampled raw bersark he’d slept for three days, woken up long enough to talk to Alexis and Ludolf for a bit, then gone back to sleep for two more days. Assuming he was running the same pattern, he should now have two more days to sleep.
Hopefully, his subconscious mind would be working on the problem during that time. “How long have I been here?”
“Two days,” Kjoic said. “The treatment, you will begin receiving it tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Merrick echoed, staring up at him. “Did Ludolf use a weaker strain or something?”
“The bersark, the Trof’te have methods of flushing if from a human system,” Kjoic said.
Merrick winced. Of course they did.
And with that, he’d just lost two days. Or rather, Ludolf had. The Drims presumably had no idea the kind of destruction they were about to unleash on the rebels.
But they would see. They would all see.
Unless Merrick could figure out an escape plan.
“What about you?” he asked.
“My arrangement with you, they do not know of it,” Kjoic said, lowering his voice even further. “I still seek to obtain the drug and make my departure.”
“And me?”
Kjoic’s membranes fluttered. “Your departure, I do not foresee it happening,” he said reluctantly. “Your death, it will occur in Runatyr.”
“If it doesn’t?”
“It will.”
“But if it doesn’t?” Merrick pressed. “I’m very lucky, you know.”
For a moment Kjoic eyed him. “If you survive,” he said at last, “we will seek an accommodation for us both. But your luck, I do not believe it can carry you that long.”
“Good enough,” Merrick said. “As to my luck, let’s wait and see.”
* * *
Colonel Reivaro finished gazing off into space with that whole data stream thing the Dominion people used instead of actually talking to each other. He blinked once, then walked to the table where Corwin was finishing his lunch. “You look very catly,” Corwin commented.
“Catly?”
“As in the cat that ate the canary,” Corwin said. “Common local idiom.” It wasn’t, of course, but with little else to do he’d taken to messing with the invaders’ minds as best he could without pushing them so far that they’d catch on and slap him down. “News about the Dewdrop, I presume?”
Some of the satisfaction left Reivaro’s face. “And how would you know that?” he asked.
Corwin shrugged. Messing with their minds. “People talk,” he said casually. “Even Dominion of Man Marines sometimes say things they shouldn’t to people they shouldn’t.”
Reivaro gave him a thin smile. “Really. And you expect me to believe my Marines have broken protocol rather than accept the far more likely scenario that you saw me mouth the Dewdrop’s name while I was checking the data stream?”
“I suppose it could have been that,” Corwin conceded. Sometimes the mind-messing worked, sometimes it didn’t. “So why the catly look? Let me guess: things are going according to your plan?”
“Exactly,” Reivaro said. He started to turn away—
“I don’t suppose you’d care to share that plan with me,” Corwin said. “That way I can be just as impressed as you are when it happens.”
Reivaro turned back, and for a long moment gazed hard into Corwin’s face. Then, he shrugged. “Why not?” he said. “It’s not like you have any contact with the outside world.”
“Exactly,” Corwin agreed. “And I know you’re dying to tell someone. That’s how it is with secrets.”
“Another Aventinian saying?” Reivaro asked. “Because we have a similar one: three may keep a secret if two of them are dead. But as I say, why not?”
“Why not, indeed,” Corwin said. It wasn’t nearly that simple, of course. The only reason Reivaro might agree to detail his great plan was the hope that he would be able to read something in Corwin’s face that would indicate whether or not his own intel on the resistance’s plans was accurate.
Corwin wished him luck on that one, given that he didn’t have the slightest idea what Lorne and the others were up to.
Reivaro pulled over a chair and sat down. “As you’ve already surmised, the news I received was about the Dewdrop. Its armor plating is complete.”
“At the cost of how many factories’ worth of ruined equipment?”
“Just one,” Reivaro said without embarrassment. “Though armoring your other three ships will probably cost at least two more. No matter. The point is that once the systems have been checked and the gravs balanced it’ll be ready for a test flight.”
“And you’re expecting them to sabotage it?”
“Not at all,” Reivaro said. “My sources indicate the rebels will attempt to take over the transport and use its test flight to destroy the relay satellites we have orbiting Aventine.”
Corwin frowned. “What in the Worlds for?”
“They seem to think our facial-recognition records are aboard the Algonquin and that those of us on the ground must access that database whenever we want to check on a random citizen walking down the street. Ergo, they think knocking out the satellites will rob us of that ability whenever the Algonquin itself is out of the line of sight.”
“Sounds a bit naïve,” Corwin murmured.
“Not only naïve, but completely wrong,” Reivaro assured him.
“So what are you going to do? Make sure none of the resistance gets aboard?”
“On contrary,” Reivaro said. “The Dome government has already been invited to select a crew and put aboard as many observers as they’d like.”
“Seriously?” Corwin asked, frowning.
“Seriously,” Reivaro assured him. “Part of Captain Lij Tulu’s ongoing effort to involve the people of the Cobra Worlds in our work. I’d be the first to admit that our public relations efforts have been less than stellar.”
“Yes, martial law will do that to people.”
“At this point I suspect that the disruptions caused by the renegade Cobras are more annoying to the average citizen than the mild restrictions of martial law,” Reivaro said. “Be that as it may. The Dewdrop’s maiden flight will hopefully demonstrate the progress that we can make if we all work together.”
“Passing over the fact that that our share of the operation was made under extreme duress?”
Reivaro smiled cynically. “Come now, Governor. This is Capitalia, and the main duress happened in DeVegas Province. There’s nothing like physical and cultural distance to make old news age even faster. No, the focus here is going to remain exactly where we want it: showing them what we’re doing to prepare for future Troft incursions.”
“You might also find your focus shifting to the latest in Aventinian sabotage techniques,” Corwin warned. It wasn’t like that was giving anything away—Reivaro had surely already thought of that possibility.
“Doubtful,” Reivaro said. “Especially as I’ve already informed the Governor-General that there would be a contingent of Marines aboard to keep order.”
“You think that will scare off the Cobras?”
Reivaro snorted. “Come now, Governor. Surely this isn’t that complicated. If there are Marines aboard…?”
“Ah,” Corwin said, nodding. He’d had it a couple of exchanges ago, actually, but he liked being underestimated. “If they want to take out the satellites, they’ll need to first neutralize the Marines. That means adding a few Cobras to the crew or the observers.”
“Very good,” Reivaro said, his tone that of a teacher whose student has finally given the correct answer. “And not just any Cobras, but Cobras who we haven’t caught and collared yet. Their so-called ghost Cobras. Once they’re aboard—” He shrugged. “We’ll have them.”
“Minus the ones you lose in the fight,” Corwin warned. “As well as the Marines they’ll take with them.”
“Oh, there won’t be a fight,” Reivaro said. “That’s the real beauty of the plan. Your resistance comrades will pack the crew with Cobras, but there won’t be any Marines aboard for them to fight with.”
“Interesting,” Corwin murmured. Yes, that was just twisty enough for Reivaro’s twisty mind. And possibly alluring enough to sucker Lorne into falling for it. “Of course, once they’re in the Dewdrop nothing prevents them from heading anywhere they want to go.”
“Hardly,” Reivaro said. “We’ll have fighters standing by. Anywhere they go on Aventine we can follow and capture the Cobras before they can get away.”
“And if they take the Dewdrop out-system?”
“To where? Caelian? Qasama? One of your so-called friendly neighboring Troft demesnes?” Reivaro waved a hand. “If they want to leave, they’re more than welcome. Getting a few Cobras out of my hair is an acceptable endpoint.”
“Except you’ll lose the use of the Dewdrop.”
“With all that armoring the ship will still look like a threat to any Troft scouts who might be nosing around,” Reivaro said. “That’s really all the upgrade was intended to accomplish in the first place. Come to think of it, having them head out on a grand tour of the region might work better than having them sit here at home. The enemy Trofts might see it as the Dominion’s attempt to recruit allies, which may draw even more of their focus and forces here.”
“Maybe you see that as a good thing,” Corwin said. “I doubt anyone else would.”
“Good is a slippery concept,” Reivaro said. “I prefer to focus on something more well-defined: the defense of the Dominion of Man.”
“So what exactly do you defend? Just the land?”
“And the people.”
“What about the deeper aspects of humanity?” Corwin pressed. “Morality and ethos, for instance?”
Reivaro shrugged. “Two more slippery concepts.”
“Some would say they’re the foundation on which everything else stands.”
“I’m sure some would,” Reivaro agreed. “But those are mostly people who sit in sunlit towers with the time and leisure for deep thoughts. People who seldom recognize or acknowledge those of us standing between them and death. Or worse.”
Corwin frowned. “What’s worse than death.”
“What the Trofts offer each planet they overrun,” Reivaro said bitterly. “Invasion. Conquest. Slavery.”
“Yes, we’re getting to know about those things,” Corwin murmured.
“Because of us?” Reivaro asked with a tight smile. “Don’t you believe it, Governor. We moved in to save humanity, with or without your help. The Trofts move in to reduce humanity to its lowest survivable level.” He snorted. “Sorry if I sound simplistic, but when you’re fighting for survival, morality is a luxury. You do the job, however you must, and you win or lose. Period.”
“I’m sorry for you,” Corwin said quietly. “It’s hard to imagine a victory less hollow than that.”
“Perhaps,” Reivaro said. “But a hollow victory still beats the hell out of any flavor of defeat. Someday, you in the Cobra Worlds will understand that.” His eyes unfocused as he looked somewhere past Corwin’s shoulder. “Or not. No. To be honest, I hope you don’t ever understand. If the Dominion falls, it would be nice to know there was still an outpost of humanity remaining.”
“Careful, Colonel,” Corwin said, forcing some lightness into his voice. Was Reivaro really giving him a look into the soldier’s soul? “Your men will think you’re going soft.”
“Hardly,” Reivaro said. His eyes came back to Corwin’s; and as they did, the veil dropped across his face again. “Besides, words are meaningless. Actions are what count. Very soon, Governor, you’ll see those actions.”
“Along with a few more Cobras under your power?”
“Let’s hope it’ll soon be all of them.” Reivaro’s expression hardened. “Then maybe we can finally get back to fighting the real enemy.”
* * *
With a suddenness that somehow surprised Jody more than it should have, they were there.
“Doesn’t look like much, does it?” Kemp murmured from behind her, his breath brushing through her hair.
“Troft planets never do,” Plaine said grimly. “But trust me, they’ll have a warship or two stashed away somewhere. Every important Troft system does.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “You ready?”
Jody took a deep breath. Was she ready? She had no idea.
But however ready she was, this was as good as it was going to get. “Let’s do it,” she said.
She reached blindly down, found Kemp’s hand and squeezed it. “Showtime.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Kjoic had told Merrick the war drug conditioning would begin the next day. But as far as Merrick could tell, nothing had happened. Early in the day the Drims had come by and taken some blood and tissue samples, and in the late afternoon they’d returned and removed his shirt for a close look at the veins in his arms. But after that, they disappeared, leaving him and Anya alone.
Merrick stayed awake for the next couple of hours, partly in case they tried to blindside him while he was sleeping, partly to study the sounds of the building with an eye toward making a break for it.
Escaping his bed, at least, should be easy enough. His fingertip lasers were in perfect position to take out the straps across his thighs; once his legs were free, he should be able to pull his knees up to his chest, angle his left calf to the side, and take out the strap securing his left wrist. And once that hand and laser were free, the rest of the straps could be dealt with in seconds.
But of course that would only be the beginning. Back on Qasama he’d seen how clever Commander Ukuthi could be with defenses even against Cobras, and just because the Drims here didn’t know who he was didn’t mean they hadn’t prepared for every eventuality.
He also had Anya to consider, which effectively negated any chance for him to utilize the more flamboyant Cobra maneuvers. Unless he was able to carry her bodily through those actions, he needed an escape plan that she could follow with normal human abilities.
Adding to the difficulty was the fact that he also had no idea how much time he had to come up with his plan. Kjoic had said the conditioning would begin immediately; but it was now the second day since his recovery from the bersark and still nothing had happened. If his blood work showed some trouble, he might have another day or two; if it was simply bureaucratic dithering or fine-tuning, the project could start at a moment’s notice.
But something was definitely happening out in the main building area. There was a lot of cattertalk going on, with half a dozen voices represented. He tried keying his audios, but even at full power he couldn’t make out any of the words.
There was the sound of another door opening, and hurrying Troft footsteps coming toward him. Merrick braced himself—
“You must hurry,” Kjoic said, his face popping into view over Merrick’s pinioned head. His voice was tense, his radiator membranes fluttering.
And to Merrick’s surprise, the Troft began unfastening his restraints. “What is it?” Merrick asked. “What’s going on?”
“A spacecraft, it has appeared over Muninn,” Kjoic said. He paused a moment, possibly listening to the voices outside, then continued releasing Merrick’s straps. “An unfriendly spacecraft, it is one.” He paused again. “I believe its goal may be rescue.”
