Cobra Gamble (42 page)

"There's no time," Rashida said. "We can't reach the top this way. Not before they arrive. Our only chance is for me to stay here and hold them off while you try to reach safety."

Jody felt her stomach tighten. "No," she said firmly.

"Absolutely not," Smitty seconded. "We leave together, or we don't leave at all."

"So three die instead of one?" Rashida demanded. "Where's the honor in that?"

"Where's the honor in leaving one of your own behind?" Smitty countered.

"I can't answer for your honor," Rashida said. "I can only answer for my own. Farewell." She reached up her other hand toward where Jody was gripping her wrist—

"Hold it," Smitty said hastily. "Okay—here's what we do. We'll all go back down, but just long enough to change positions. You'll take point, Rashida, with Jody next and me bringing up the rear. That way we'll have my antiarmor laser and target-locks where they can actually do us some good. Okay?"

Rashida hesitated, then nodded. "All right," she said.

"Here's the plan," Smitty said. "Rashida drops first, obviously—your leg servos should be able to handle the landing, but watch your footing. As soon as you're down, move out of the way so Jody can join you. Jody, ditto. Once I'm down, I'll throw you one at a time as high up the chimney as I can—if I do it right, you should be able to just push out with back and legs at the top of your arc and get back to climbing. Got it?"

"Got it," Jody said, frowning. There was something in his tone that was sending warning sirens screaming through her brain.

"Yes," Rashida said.

"Okay, then," Smitty said. "Rashida, bend your knees a little. Jody, let go of her."

And even as Jody started to open her hand the horrible truth flooded in on her. "No!" she snapped, tightening her grip again. "Rashida, it's a trick. He's not planning to come back with us. He's going to stay down there and fight the Trofts so we can get away."

"Oh, for—" Smitty choked off a curse.
"Damn
it, Broom."

"We leave together, or we don't leave at all," Jody reminded him tightly.

He took a deep breath. "Listen to me, Jody," he said. "We have only two choices. One, you let me stay behind and keep the Trofts off your backs. Two, we keep climbing and they blow all three of us out of here in pieces."

"Or three," Rashida put in, "we let
me
go down and do the fighting."

"No," Smitty said flatly. "I can't let a civilian make that kind of sacrifice. Not while I'm still alive and able to fight."

"I'm not a civilian," Rashida said, and Jody shivered at the sudden darkness in her voice. "No Qasaman is. Not anymore. When our world was invaded, we all became soldiers."

"I don't care if you all became cybernetic screech tigers," Smitty retorted. "I'm not leaving you—"

"Wait a second," Jody interrupted as a sudden, crazy, possibly lethal idea struck her. "There may be one more option." She braced herself. "We blow your booby-trap."

"Sorry, but that won't help," Smitty told her. "Not enough, anyway. It'll flatten everyone already in the chamber, but they'll have plenty of soldiers still in reserve on the ship. And there's no way we can make all the way to the top before the reinforcements arrive—" He broke off. "I'll be damned," he said his voice suddenly thoughtful. "You're right—it's worth a shot. Rashida, get your feet up.
Now."

"I don't understand," Rashida said. But she nevertheless pulled her legs up and set them against the far wall. "What are we doing?"

"We're taking the express," Smitty said, and Jody glanced up to see him pull out his radio. "Heads tucked to your chests, eyes closed, and everyone hold tight to each other. Here we go."

Jody pressed her chin against her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. Rashida's arm rotated slightly in her grasp, and she felt the other woman's fingers close around her wrist. Taking the cue, Jody shifted her wrist in Smitty's grip and locked her fingers around his arm. Below them, she could hear the multiple scurrying of feet as the other Trofts in the cavern converged on their refuge. In the near distance there was a violent thundercrack as Smitty's booby-trapped missiles exploded—

And an instant later a blast of hot air slammed into her from below, breaking her friction grip on the chimney wall and throwing her violently upward.

She kept her chin tucked, her hands gripping Rashida's and Smitty's, her teeth clenched against the pain as she was bounced back and forth off the chimney walls. An old memory flashed unexpectedly to mind: the first time she'd ever climbed up on a chair as a toddler and stuck her face over a pan where her mother was boiling water. The buffeting slowed, the heat that had been flowing up around her back and legs fading away. She felt herself slowing—

And with a wrenching of her arm she came to a sudden halt.

She looked up. Smitty was still gripping her arm, but he was no longer twisted like half a pretzel and braced against the sides of the chimney. Instead, he was standing vertically, his legs stretched to either side of her.

For a second it didn't register. Then her mind cleared, and she realized Smitty was vertical because he was no longer inside the chimney. Instead, he was standing in a larger chamber, straddling the chimney opening from above.

The shock wave from the explosion hadn't just sent them flying higher up the chimney. It had thrown them all the way up to the top.

"You all right?" Smitty asked as he pulled her up. "Rashida?"

"I think so," Jody said, frowning. Somewhere along the way on that turbulent ride, Rashida's grip around her arm had loosened.

And now, as she looked down, she saw that the other woman's head was hanging limply against her chest. "Smitty!" Jody said.

"I'm on it," Smitty said grimly, pulling her the rest of the way out of the chimney and setting her down on solid rock. As he did so, he reached down with his other hand and took Rashida's arm. "Rashida?" he called, peering anxiously into the woman's face as he set her feet down on the opposite side. "Come on, girl, wake up."

There was no response. He shifted his grip on her, putting his other arm around her shoulders as Jody circled the chimney opening and got a grip on Rashida's head and belt. Together, they eased her into a half-sitting, half-lying position on a slanted rock ledge at the side of the chamber. "Rashida?" Smitty called again, kneeling down beside her, his fingertips gently tapping her cheek. "Rashida?"

And then, to Jody's relief, Rashida's eyes blinked open. She looked at Smitty, then at Jody, then back at Smitty. A frown creased her face, as if she was sifting through jumbled memories trying to figure out what had happened. Then, the creases in her forehead smoothed and the faintest hint of a tentative smile touched her lips. "Ouch," she said.

Smitty chuckled, sounding relieved, amused, and slightly embarrassed at the same time. "That's for sure," he agreed. "And naturally you got the worst of it. I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Rashida said, wincing as she reached a hand down to her ribs. "Whatever injuries I may have received, they were a small price to pay for our survival."

Abruptly, Smitty seemed to realize that his fingertips were still resting against Rashida's cheek, and he dropped his hand to his side. "Okay, then," he said briskly, getting back to his feet. "There's an exit onto the top of the cliff nearby. Jody, why don't you wait here with Rashida while I check it out."

"Wouldn't it be safer for us to stay together?" Rashida asked, putting her hand on the rock wall beside her, her fingers searching for a grip. "I can travel."

"You sure?" Smitty asked, taking her hand and helping her to her feet.

"Yes," Rashida said firmly. "Besides, I want to see with my own eyes what the explosion did to the invaders' other warship."

"Fair enough," Smitty conceded. "Okay. Follow me."

Ten minutes later, they emerged through a ragged opening onto a jumble of small rocks overgrown with ribbon vine and green treacle and dotted with bushy solotropes. Holding both women by the hand, Smitty cautiously led the way to the crumbling edge of the cliff.

Jody had hoped the explosion had been strong enough to tip the newly arrived warship over onto its side. To her mild disappointment, the ship was still upright, squatting on the relatively flat area below the cave with its bow weapons clusters pointed into the entrance. It was hard for Jody to tell through the drifting smoke from the burned-off areas, but it didn't look like the ship had taken any damage at all. "Well, at least we probably took out a few of their soldiers," she said philosophically. "What now?"

"We wait," Smitty said, moving them back from the cliff edge to more secure footing. "Sooner or later someone will come looking for us—that smoke will be visible for dozens of kilometers, and Harli and the others know where we went. Either they'll come, or the Tlossies will whenever they finally get here."

"Or the invaders will," Rashida murmured.

"Let 'em try," Smitty said. "There are places in the upper caves where we could hold out for weeks where even a missile would have a hard time getting to us."

He gestured around them. "In the meantime, this is probably the best place in Wonderland we could have picked to hang out for a while. We've got edible plants, plenty of food animals, and only the smaller predators."

He let go of Jody's hand, holding Rashida's another moment before also releasing it. "Come on. I'll get you back inside, then go hunt us up some dinner." 

CHAPTER TWENTY

"Ten seconds," Ghushtre announced from behind Lorne.

"Acknowledged," one of the two Djinn at the weapons board replied. "All missiles armed and ready to go."

Lorne felt a shiver run up his back. Here it was: the final make-or-break moment. The moment when the Qasamans either won their freedom from the Trofts who had invaded their world, or the moment when they settled into a long, bitter war of attrition that might never be won.

"Lorne Moreau?"

Lorne shook away the thoughts. "The drones have closed to within a kilometer of the incoming warships," he reported. "SkyJos holding close formation behind them."

"Two seconds," the Djinni warned.

Lorne closed his hand on the edge of his seat. A moment later, the warship gave a gentle lurch, far gentler than he'd expected. "Missiles away," the Djinni announced. "Two targeted on each SkyJo."

"And yet the invaders hold their fire," Ghushtre murmured, sounding vaguely bemused.

"As Moffren Omnathi predicted they would," Lorne reminded him. "The Troft commanders got to see the SkyJos' capabilities when you chased them out of Sollas, and they know the three incoming warships are still out of their optimal weapons range. They want to make sure there's no chance any of the SkyJos has time or room to maneuver when they finally do open fire."

"And perhaps they think we still believe the drones will protect the SkyJos until they've closed to that range?"

Lorne shrugged uncomfortably. That one had been his parents' prediction, and it was clear Ghushtre didn't have nearly as much confidence in it as he did in Omnathi's own drug-enhanced pronouncements. "Warrior told us the drones carry IFF transponders," he reminded Ghushtre. "It's obvious that something with such a small cross-section won't be able to shield the SkyJos once they're close enough. But again, the invaders don't know we know that."

"Perhaps," Ghushtre said. "We shall know soon enough."

* * *

 [Missiles, Captain Vuma has launched them,] Officer Cebed said, his radiator membranes fluttering with confusion. [The SkyJos, the missiles are targeting them.]

[Captain Vuma,
he
has launched missiles?] Inxeba demanded, frowning at Cebed. [Captain Vuma, was he not captured by the enemy?]

[The missiles, they have been launched,] Cebed repeated. [Captain Vuma, perhaps he has retaken control of his ship.]

[Captain Vuma, no communication has he made,] one of the other officers objected suspiciously.

[The SkyJos, they have increased speed,] one of the other Trofts spoke up urgently.

[The SkyJos, they seek to escape the missiles,] Inxeba said, his own suspicions fading into anticipation. [The SkyJos, what is their combat status?]

[Their weapons, they will be in optimal firing range in ten seconds,] Cebed said. [Captain Geceg, he reports all of his point defenses are functional.]

[A race, it shall then be,] Inxeba said. [Captain Vuma, his missiles; Captain Geceg, his point defenses. The SkyJos, we shall see which destroys them first.]

And it was at that moment, as he frowned at the drone monitors and the views from Geceg's three-ship task force, that Merrick suddenly understood.

Surreptitiously, he looked at Ukuthi. The Balin commander was looking back at him, and from his expression Merrick knew he'd also figured it out.

For a pair of heartbeats he held Merrick's gaze. Then, calmly and deliberately, he turned back to the displays. Reaching for his drink, he took a sip and then set it back on its table.

Merrick smiled tightly. Ukuthi had figured it out, all right. But Inxeba had demanded the glory of this operation go to his demesne, and Ukuthi had graciously conceded it to him. Only it wouldn't be glory. It would be disaster.

And Inxeba would never even see it coming.

* * *

The missiles closed to within two seconds of the SkyJos... and with that, Lorne knew, they had won.

And yet, he still marveled at the Trofts' arrogant blindness. They'd recognized quickly enough the overt part of Omnathi's plan, that the drones' IFF systems would shield the SkyJos from the warships' weapons.

What they still apparently hadn't realized was that such shielding worked both ways.

The missiles from the Qasamans' captured warship couldn't target the three incoming ships. But they
could
target the Qasamans' attack helicopters.

And if those SkyJos happened to be directly between the missiles and the Troft warships when the missiles locked on...

He was gazing at the displays, wondering at the fortunes of war, when the SkyJo pilots ejected. Half a second later, the helicopters' self-destructs went off, shattering them along preset stress lines as the blasts disintegrated them into clouds of dust.