Cobra Guardian: Cobra War: Book Two (33 page)

[Orders, I request them,] the helmsman spoke up.

[Our course, continue it,] Warrior said. [Our identity, again transmit it.]

[The warship's weapons, he has activated them,] the sensor Troft said, his membranes fully extended now.

[Orders, I request them,] the helmsman repeated more urgently. [Evasion, shall I initiate it?]

[Evasion, you shall not initiate it,] Warrior said.

Behind Lorne, the bridge door slid open, and he turned as Croi and Nissa hurried in. "What's going on?" Croi demanded, his eyes flicking over the displays. "Someone out there said we were under attack."

"Right now, we're just under observation," Lorne told them. "But the other is definitely waiting in the wings."

"Anything I can do?" Croi asked.

"I doubt it," Lorne said. "Surgeons are usually more useful after a fight than during it."

"Funny," Croi muttered. "I
can
fight, you know."

"So go get your biggest scalpel," Lorne said. "Something the size of a sword, if you have one."

"Broom--"

"If you haven't, I suggest you both go back to our quarters and wait," Lorne cut him off. "And if you hear laser fire, you'd better get all the rest of your scalpels ready."

* * *

"New blip," Khatir snapped, hunching over the transport's helm display. "Big one, coming up from the surface."

"Identification?" Jin asked.

"It's too far away for good resolution," Khatir said. "But from its overall size and shape, it could be one of the same kind of sentry ship we faced in the streets of Sollas."

Jin's hands curled into fists. She'd hoped against hope that the invaders would consider Caelian so useless and insignificant that they wouldn't even bother sending a force to occupy it.

And not only had they sent a force, they'd sent enough of one that they could spare a warship from their ground operation to come up here and check out an unexpected and uninvited intruder.

Or rather,
two
uninvited intruders. "Rashida Vil, can you confirm yet whether or not the freighter up there is the Tlossie who refueled us at Aventine?"

"What do you want me to say?" the young woman asked stiffly, throwing Jin a dark look. "We're too far away to see the hull markings, and we never had a transmitted ID signal from them."

"But who else could they be?" Siraj put in brusquely. "They're the only ones who knew who we were. They're the only ones who could have guessed where we were going." He shook his head. "The mission is over, Jasmine Moreau. I say we leave right now, before that warship gets within firing range."

"And return to Qasama empty-handed?" Jin asked. "That will hardly bring us honor."

"Better to arrive empty-handed than with no hands at all," Siraj countered. "If we linger, they'll take us all."

"We need allies," Jin insisted.

"There are none," Rashida said, her tone dark. "Your hope has failed, Jasmine Moreau. There are no friends for Qasama anywhere out here. There are only enemies."

"So you agree with Siraj Akim." Jin turned to Zoshak. "Carsh Zoshak?" she invited.

"I must also agree," Zoshak said. Unlike Siraj and Rashida, he sounded more disappointed than angry or bitter. "The freighter must have followed us here, coming out of hyperspace ahead of us so as to be able to give the alert to the other invaders. Why else would they be here?"

"I don't know," Jin said. "But the Tlossies aren't
other
invaders. They're not part of the group who've attacked our worlds."

"Yet here they are," Siraj pointed out, gesturing toward the forward display. "If they're not the invaders' allies, answer Carsh Zoshak's question. Why are they here?"

"Why did they allow us to escape Aventine instead of betraying us right then and there?" Jin countered. "Here, we still have a chance to escape. At Aventine, surrounded by warships, we would have had none at all."

"Perhaps they wished to see where we'd go next," Rashida suggested.

"According to Siraj Akim's reasoning, they already knew where we were going," Jin reminded her. "You can't have it both ways."

"We may not get it either way," Khatir put in, his voice suddenly odd. "The rising warship isn't heading toward us. It's heading toward the freighter."

"That's good, isn't it?" Rashida asked, looking at her own set of displays.

"Good for us," Khatir agreed. "Not so good for the Tlossies."

Siraj sniffed. "A meeting of allies."

"To what end?" Zoshak asked. "They can speak together just as well by comm."

"He's right," Jin said grimly. "The invaders are going in because they want a closer look at the freighter."

"As I said, not so good for the Tlossies," Khatir said. "Jasmine Moreau, do you wish me to go around them and try for the surface?"

Jin braced herself. "No," she said. "Transmit the clearance codes we got from the transport's pilot back at Qasama. Tell the warship that the Tlossies are with us."

Siraj's mouth dropped open. "
What
?"

"They risked their lives to help us back at Aventine," Jin said. "It's our turn now to help them."

"And if the Tlossies aren't as they appear?" Siraj demanded. "If they're allies of the invaders and are merely playing games with us?"

"They're not our enemies," Jin insisted. "They sent Merrick and me to Qasama to help you. They refueled us and got us away from Aventine. And they've been our trading partners for decades."

"Do you truly believe they're our friends?" Zoshak asked.

Jin looked him straight in the eye. "Yes."

Zoshak exhaled heavily. "Then I say we do it," he said. "Jasmine Moreau is our ally, Siraj Akim, and so far her instincts have proved to be good. I say we trust those instincts one more time."

"I too am willing," Rashida said.

Siraj snorted. "You're a woman."

"I'm translator and second pilot," Rashida said stiffly. "My opinion has a right to be heard and weighed."

Siraj glared at her a moment, then shifted the glare to Khatir. "And you, Ghofl Khatir?"

Khatir shrugged. "My opinion hardly matters," he pointed out. "You're the senior Djinni aboard. The decision is yours."

"But whatever you decide, it must be quick," Jin added.

Siraj locked eyes with her, his lips compressed into a thin, pale line. "What would you say to them?" he asked.

"We tell them we're from the Qasaman contingent," Jin said, thinking quickly. "Just in case the clearance codes are different between the different invasion groups. The Tlossies are a potential ally, and we were ordered to bring them here for a closer look at Caelian."

"Why would they want a look at a living death trap?" Siraj scoffed.

"Because there may be useful plants and animals down there," Khatir offered. "Or possibly mineral wealth."

"We'll go with the plants," Jin decided. "Especially their potential pharmaceutical uses. The Tlossies do a lot with that sort of thing."

Siraj gave a curt nod and shifted his eyes to Rashida. "Go ahead," he ordered her. "Be convincing."

Rashida turned around and keyed her board. [Your attention, we request it,] she said in cattertalk.

Jin listened with half an ear, watching the displays and trying to figure out what they would do if the invaders didn't go for their story. At the moment, the warship was far enough in, and their own transport far enough out, that they could duck back into hyperspace reasonably safely and get out of the system.

But that would mean abandoning the freighter to face the warship alone. Worse, by identifying themselves as the Tlossies' escort, Rashida had now effectively linked the two ships together. If the Qasamans made a run for it, or did anything else guilty-looking, that same level of guilt would automatically shift over to the freighter.

[--your course, you will hold it,] the Troft voice ordered, the words snapping Jin out of her thoughts. [Your orders, we will examine them.]

"Uh-oh," Khatir murmured.

Rashida turned around. "Jasmine Moreau?" she asked tightly. "What do I say?"

"What do I do?" Khatir added.

And suddenly, all eyes were on Jin. "Hold your course," she told them, her mouth going dry. "Just hold your course. I'll think of something."

* * *

"Fire in three!" Harli shouted, his voice from half a kilometer away perfectly clear in Paul's enhanced hearing. "Audios down!"

Obediently, Paul keyed them back . . . and exactly three seconds later, the forest was rocked by a violent triple explosion. The echoes of the blast faded away.

And with a softer but even more horrendous crunching noise, the three huge steelwood trees that Harli's men had mined tilted over and fell, slamming with a rolling crunch against the top of the Troft warship.

The ship was big and massive. But so were the trees, and the ship's design had given it a dangerously narrow base . . . and as Paul watched in awe the ship tilted sideways and ponderously toppled over to slam into the city's outer wall. For a moment it balanced there, squeezed like the center of a sandwich between stainless steel wall below and Caelian steelwood tree above.

But the wall had never been designed for this kind of abuse. The rustling of branches from the fallen trees was still audible when the wall gave an abrupt screech of its own and collapsed beneath the warship's weight. With a final crunch of buildings and vehicles, the Troft ship came to rest on its side.

"Attack!" Paul heard Harli's distant shout. "All Cobras, attack!"

* * *

"We have no choice," Siraj said, his voice tight. "Do you hear me, Jasmine Moreau? We must leave.
Now
."

"Ghofl Khatir?" Jin asked, her eyes flicking back and forth between the approaching warship's image and the rapidly decreasing distance indicator on the nav display.

"He may be right," Khatir said. "There's no way for us to know the range of its weapons."

"We will when they start firing," Siraj bit out. "You saw their power on Qasama, Jasmine Moreau. You know what they can do."

Jin grimaced. She knew, all right. And here they were, sitting in a transport designed for hauling people and cargo, with no extra armor anywhere on it.

Siraj was right. Staying here until they were blown out of the sky wouldn't gain either them or the Tlossies anything. All they could do was try to balance the line, to draw the warship as far from the freighter as they could before they ran, and hope the Tlossies would take the hint also and run for it.

"Wait a minute," Rashida said suddenly. "Ghofl Khatir? Am I reading this correctly?"

"You are," Khatir confirmed, sounding as puzzled as she did. "They're veering off. Hard. Heading . . . yes--heading back to the surface." He frowned at Jin. "Could they have been frightened off by something?"

"Are there any other spacecraft in the region?" Siraj asked.

"Nothing I can see," Khatir said.

"Unbelievable," Siraj murmured. "Why would they just leave that way?"

"They must have been called back," Jin said. "There must be some trouble in Stronghold that they need the warship there to deal with."

"God help those people," Zoshak murmured. "But if we still want to land, this is our chance."

Jin looked at Siraj. He hesitated, then nodded. "Take us in," he ordered. "Try to catch up with the freighter on the way. I'd very much like to know what he wants here, and I'd prefer to know it
before
we land."

"Acknowledged," Khatir said, and Jin felt herself being pressed back into her seat as he ran full power to the drive.

Jin took a deep breath. A brief respite at best, but maybe it would be enough. If they could get to the surface and into some kind of cover before the warship finished its other business and came back to look for them--

Her thoughts froze, a sudden chill running through her.
Before it finishes its business
. . . and whatever that business was, it almost certainly involved the killing or wounding of some of Stronghold's citizens. Human beings just like her.

And yet, until that moment not a single thought of their welfare had even crossed her mind.

A queasy feeling settled into her stomach. Was this what it was like to be a soldier? To become so focused on your own private corner of a battle or war that you had no attention left to spare for anyone else?

"We're gaining on them," Khatir announced. "Either that or they're deliberately holding back to let us catch--"

And then, without warning, the command room flared with a sudden blaze of light and the entire transport was jerked violently sideways.

Jin gasped as the scream of the depressurization alarm split the air, her mind flashing back to that horrible moment when the shuttle carrying her on her first trip to Qasama had also blazed with light and fury and tangled metal, and everyone except Jin herself had died a sudden, violent death. Her vision clouded over . . .

"Jasmine Moreau! Jasmine Moreau!"

Jin snapped her eyes open. Zoshak and Siraj were hunched over her, the latter anxiously and gingerly slapping at her cheek. "What happened?" she croaked.

"The warship apparently had second thoughts about us," Siraj said grimly. "Possibly they were bothered by our sudden change in velocity toward the freighter."

"They're coming back?" Jin asked, her heart seizing up as she checked her nanocomputer's clock.

But as best she could tell, she'd been unconscious for over ten minutes. If the warship had decided to come after them, it should surely have been here by now.

"No, they're still returning to the surface," Siraj said. "But they decided to take a parting shot at us."

Jin focused on the wall behind him. That whole side of the command room had turned the mottled, lumpy gray of emergency hull sealant. "Is it holding?" she asked.

"So far," Siraj said, glancing over his shoulder at the sealant. "But Ghofl Khatir says we've also taken some damage to the drive and grav lifts."

"How bad?"

"We'll make it to ground all right," Khatir said grimly from the helm. "But I don't know how close we'll make it to any of the towns."

Jin winced. On the ground, in the Caelian wilderness. This just got better and better. "Have you talked to the Tlossies?" she asked. "Is there anything they can do?"