Cobra Gamble (27 page)

"Why not?" Smitty asked, frowning. "If the lifts flip it over, so what? In fact, that'll put it even more out of the way of the wall gap."

"The
so what
is that we don't know what a second impact might do to the internal workings," Harli said. "Especially the fuel and other fluids that we'd just as soon keep inside. We were lucky the first time—warships are built tough, and the impact with the wall may have cushioned the fall a little. But we can't count on being that lucky twice."

Jody looked away from the ship, focusing on the partially trampled hookgrass and other plants outside the wall. "So we're not going to use the curtain at all?" she asked, an idea starting to take shape in the back of her mind.

"I don't think we can risk it," Harli said. "I know your friends put a lot of work into it, but—"

"Hold it," Kemp said, lifting a hand. "I don't think that's where she was going. You have something, Jody?"

"Maybe," Jody said slowly. "We can't just drive the Trofts into the forest, because that would be the same as shooting them. But what if we could put them out there and at the same time keep most of the wildlife away?"

"You mean like a bunker?" Smitty asked.

"She means like a spore-repellent curtain," Kemp said. "Right?"

"Right," Jody said. "We were planning on, what, seventy or eighty meters to cover the gap in the wall?"

"I told them we needed seventy-five," Harli said, eyeing her closely. "And three meters high."

"Okay," Jody said, running a quick mental calculation. "So if we lay the curtain out in a ring seventy-five meters in circumference, that makes the area inside something like four hundred thirty square meters. Right?"

"Closer to four-forty, I think," Harli said.

"Either way, with a hundred ninety prisoners that comes to over two square meters each," Jody said. "Not comfortable, but feasible. They'll be mostly safe,
and
they'll be out of our hair."

"What about the big predators?" Smitty asked. "The curtain's not going to keep them out."

"But most of them won't bother to investigate," Harli said thoughtfully. "For those who do, I guess the Trofts are on their own."

"Or we could give them a couple of shotguns with ten rounds each," Kemp suggested.

"If they've got weapons, Eubujak might order them to come back here," Smitty warned.

"Only if he knows where we are," Jody said. "We could burn away a path half a kilometer or so into the forest, burn out a clearing, and march them there under the curtain to keep them from seeing where they're going."

"Couldn't they just follow the burned path back?" Smitty asked.

"We could burn two or three of them," Jody said.

"Probably not necessary," Kemp said. "They head through any part of the forest and the giggers'll get them before they get fifty meters. We just nail the generator to a tree so they can't take the curtain with them, and they'll be stuck there."

"That's a lot of burning," Harli pointed out. "Don't know if we have time for that." He looked at Jody, his lips twisting in a slightly evil smile as he pulled out his radio. "But I think we can come up with something simpler,
and
maybe even a bit more elegant." He keyed the radio. "Nissa? You there?"

"I'm here," the woman's cool voice came back.

"Any update on the curtain timeline?"

"Just a minute." There was a brief pause filled with muffled and distant voices. "They say it'll be ready by tomorrow morning," Nissa reported. "Possibly tonight, if they hurry."

"Then tell them to hurry," Harli told her. "I want to know the minute it's ready."

"You will," Nissa said.

"Good. Get back to work." Harli keyed off the radio and put it away. "We'll need to rig some stands to hold the thing up," he said, almost as if talking to himself "But we were going to have to do that anyway. I figure we should be ready to march them out by mid-morning at the latest."

"We're never going to burn them a clearing by then," Kemp warned.

"No clearing needed," Harli assured him. "We're going to put them at the far end of the landing field."

"That close to Stronghold?" Kemp asked, frowning. "How do you expect to keep them there?"

"You'll see." Harli smiled tightly, then sobered. "I'm glad you've got the ship running. We need to start the evacuation this afternoon, and this'll make it a lot easier than running a line of overloaded aircars back and forth across the forest."

"Be easier on the wounded, too," Kemp said. "At least they'll get to stretch out for the trip. You and the Governor still going to put everyone in Aerie?"

"No, we thought about it and decided that an influx of nine hundred new citizens would strain even their traditional hospitality," Harli said. "We're now figuring three hundred each to Aerie, Essbend, and Rockhouse."

"Even that's going to be pushing it," Kemp warned. "Especially for Rockhouse."

"I know," Harli conceded. "But I don't see any other way. When those Troft reinforcements come, they'll be coming to Stronghold first. We have to get the citizens out of harm's way, and dividing them up is the best way to do that."

"Unless you moved everyone into the Octagon Caves," Smitty said suddenly. "I didn't think about that earlier, but there's plenty of room in there for a mass camp-out. Or they could split up into smaller rooms—Danny and Kirstin and I found dozens of them back when we used to poke around in there."

"Actually, I'm thinking we might use the caves for something else," Harli said. "I'll want to talk to you about that later."

"Perhaps Smitty's right about hiding away in caverns," Rashida spoke up hesitantly. "Even if the invaders come here first, they'll surely travel afterward to the other towns you spoke of."

"Yes, that'll probably be their plan," Harli agreed. "Our job is to make sure that doesn't happen." He gestured to her. "Your job is to get better at flying that thing. The Trofts could arrive in anywhere from two to three days. In six hours I'm going to start moving people out of Stronghold. Think you'll be ready to start taking passengers by then?"

Rashida looked at Jody and Smitty, then back at Harli. "We'll be ready in three," she promised.

"Good," Harli said. "Kemp, go grab Popescu and Brady and get them working on support frames for that curtain. I'll go tell Dad to alert the first evacuee list."

He looked up at the sun. "We're burning daylight. Let's get to work."

* * *

Nine weeks.

The words swirled through Jin's mind, disturbing and mocking, as the car bounced along the wide road leading toward Azras.
Nine weeks.

That was how long it took on Aventine to turn a new recruit into a full Cobra. That was always how long it had taken, ever since Jin could remember. The exact regimen had been adjusted over the years, as the instructors experimented with new techniques or as the implanted equipment itself was tweaked. But the total length of the training period never wavered.
Nine weeks.

Yithtra and the Milika villagers had had six days.

Ghushtre and his fellow Djinn had had one.

She focused on the back of the Yithtra's head as he steered the car along the winding forest road, smelling the very Qasaman scent of the two others in the front seat and the one on Paul's other side here in the back. Beach and McCollom thought the group was ready, though both of them had expressed varying degrees of astonishment at that fact. Certainly the villagers and Djinn themselves thought they were ready.

But were they? That was the question that had been nagging at Jin since the convoy left Milika two hours ago. Were they really ready for war?

But then, was anyone ever really ready for war? Or did everyone just do what they could with what they had, struggling along and hoping for the best?

"There," Gama Yithtra said, taking one hand from the wheel and pointing ahead. "That's Azras."

Jin leaned across Paul's chest to look past Yithtra's head. Ahead and to the right, she could see the top edge of a city wall above the rolling hills a couple of kilometers beyond the edge of the forest.

On the other side of the road, a kilometer from the city itself, she could see the top of another of the tall, narrow Troft warships.

"I see they've learned from their Sollas drubbing," Paul murmured. "Sitting way out there, they can shoot down any SkyJos the Qasamans launch from Azras before they get into their own attack range."

"Their cunning goes far deeper than that," Yithtra said. "They have the entire city under siege, with eight of their armored troop trucks roaming the streets at all times. They also have drones overhead, watching every gathering of citizens and tracking where they come from and where they go."

"Trying to find a way into the subcity," Jin said, nodding. "Still, if they're waiting for someone to get sloppy, they're going to have a long wait."

"Ah, but they
aren't
merely hoping for carelessness," Yithtra said grimly. "They hope also to elicit treason."

Jin snorted. "Good luck with that one."

"Perhaps," Yithtra said. "But as you'll see, we and the food we bring to the blockaded citizens will be readily allowed in. But we'll find that we're then forbidden to leave."

Jin frowned; and then she got it. "Thereby increasing the number of mouths that need to be fed, which adds more strain on the city's resources."

"And adds more to the usual tension existing between city dwellers and villagers," Yithtra said. "Especially as the villagers now trapped by their errand of mercy will be increasingly frantic to return to their homes and families."

"Let me guess," Paul murmured. "Point out an entrance to the subcity and you can go home."

"Exactly," Yithtra said. "Or deliver a military weapon to them, or identify a Djinn or soldier to the invaders, and likewise buy your escape." Yithtra made a spitting sound. "A futile hope, of course, that any villager would betray our world. We aren't city dwellers, who might—"

"Enough of that," Jin interrupted firmly. "You're not a villager anymore, Gama Yithtra, any more than the Djinn riding behind us and the people you'll meet in Azras are city dwellers. You're Qasamans. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Of course," Yithtra said. But he didn't say it like he really believed it. Or meant it.

Jin looked sideways at Paul. He grimaced, but merely gave a small shrug.

Even under the pressures of war, the old rivalries remained.

There were four of the Troft armored trucks arrayed around the main gate into Azras: two of them flanking the road, facing opposite directions with their roof-mounted swivel guns guarding both approaches to the city. The other two trucks flanked the short access spur that led from the main road to the gate, their swivel guns both pointed into the city.

There were also Troft soldiers on duty, at least twenty of them, standing guard at the gate, perched on top of the trucks, or manning the checkpoint barrier that had been set up along the road. All were dressed in the enemy's familiar armored leotards and full-face helmets, all carried big hand-and-a-half lasers, and all had their full attention on the eight-car convoy now rolling toward the checkpoint.

As a no doubt unintentional touch of irony, the Azras gate itself stood wide open.

One of the Trofts strode toward their car as Yithtra brought the vehicle to a halt. "State your name, point of origin, and business," the translator pin on the alien's left shoulder said in a flat voice.

"Gama Yithtra, son of Bejran Yithtra of Milika," Yithtra identified himself. "We bring aid and food for the besieged citizens of Azras."

The Troft looked back at the other seven cars now stopped in a line behind them. "You will leave your vehicles," he ordered, stepping back and leveling his laser at Yithtra. "All will remove their tunics and upper robes."

"Our group includes two women," Yithtra objected. "Such public exposure is shameful and cannot be allowed."

For a moment the Troft regarded him silently, his mouth moving behind his faceplate as he either discussed it with his fellow guards or else checked in with higher authority. Jin watched him closely, mentally crossing her fingers. Stripping to their underwear, she knew, wouldn't bother either her or Jennifer nearly as much as it would a typical Qasaman woman. But that was the point: they were supposed to
be
Qasaman women, with typical Qasaman sensibilities. If the Trofts refused to grant them an exemption, they would have to leave the men here and hope they could figure out another way into the city.

Fortunately, it wasn't going to come to that. "The females will pull back their sleeves and show their arms to be bare," the Troft ordered. "The males will remove their tunics and upper robes."

Jin gave a silent sigh of relief. Still, the concession to modesty wasn't all that unexpected. The Trofts were clearly looking for Djinni combat suits, and the Qasamans were even worse at permitting women into the ranks of their elite soldiers as Aventine was at accepting female Cobras.

"Understood," Yithtra said. He opened the door and started to get out of the car.

"And after you have done that," the Troft continued, "you will leave your vehicles and carry your supplies by hand through the gate."

Jin had never done any acting herself, and didn't know the first thing about the art or science of that craft. But she knew a good performance when she saw it, and Yithtra's was definitely it. He froze in mid-step, his eyes widening as he looked sharply at the Troft. "What?" he asked, his tone more bewildered than anything else.

"You will carry your supplies in through the gate," the Troft repeated. "Your vehicles will remain here."

Yithtra shot a disbelieving look back down the line of cars, then turned back to the guard. "Why?" he asked. "What's wrong with the cars?"

"You will carry your supplies—"

"Yes, I heard you the first two times," Yithtra cut him off, outrage starting to replace bewilderment in his voice. "That makes no sense. You have any idea how
Heavy
those parcels are? And one of our doctors is on crutches—you expect him to
walk
the whole way to the aid center?"