Cobra Outlaw - eARC (26 page)

“No, I don’t think so,” the sergeant said. “I think you knew we were on to you. I also think that the real reason you’re here is to be a diversion.”

Jin’s heart froze. If they’d already taken Corwin and Kicker—

“Really was a waste of time,” the sergeant continued. “We’ve got more than enough men to keep an eye on you
and
your son.”

The hard band that had wrapped around Jin’s chest eased a little. Did that mean they
weren’t
on to Corwin and Kicker? “I wouldn’t underestimate Lorne if I were you,” she said, her eyes dropping from the Marine’s faceplate to the deadly epaulets on his shoulders. The little computers operating those lasers were supposed to only go automatic when they sensed an imminent attack. Theoretically, what she was about to do didn’t fit that algorithm.

But the Marines could also trigger the lasers manually. The crucial question was whether she could make her move before they had time to react.

There was, unfortunately, only one way to find out.

“I wouldn’t underestimate
us
if I were you,” the sergeant retorted. “You little dirtwater worlds are all alike—”

Spinning around, Jin turned her back on them and took two quick steps, as if she was trying to make a run for it. On the third step, she threw herself forward at the floor, twisting around in midair to land on her back, her arms and legs flailing as if she’d tripped over something and the fall was an accident.

And as her legs swung upward, moving far out of line with any of the Marines and their counterattack sensors, she triggered her antiarmor laser.

Her nanocomputer took over, lining up her left leg on one of the pillars, firing a bolt into the sagging material, then shifting to the next, firing, and shifting to the next, the whole procedure taking barely half a second. With a multiple splintering
snap
the pillars shattered and the air filled with a grinding roar as the roof disintegrated and tumbled toward the humans gathered below.

The Marines were caught flat-footed, with nowhere to go and nothing they could do except drop into low crouches and brace themselves against the avalanche of debris tumbling toward them. Jin, with no helmet or combat suit, couldn’t afford to ride it out.

But lying flat on the floor, she had an option the Marines didn’t. Quickly bending her left knee upwards, pulling the foot close in toward her body, she fired one final laser shot straight down into the floor, blasting a hole through the tile and wood. Then, bracing her heel on the edge of the hole, she threw power to her servos and convulsively straightened out the knee, sending herself sliding on her back toward the wall behind her.

It almost worked. The wall she had aimed at remained standing, at least at the bottom, and she only bumped her head a little as she slammed into it. But the roof was in worse shape than she’d thought, and when it went, it
all
went. Even as she skidded to a tooth-jarring halt at the wall a broken section of roof support beam slammed down on her amid a choking cloud of splinters and dust.

Fortunately, the beam landed across her legs, where they could bruise her skin but not threaten any vital organs. Squeezing her eyes shut against the dust, she keyed her opticals, using the enhanced vision to guide her fingertip lasers as she sliced the beam into manageable pieces. Pushing the last piece away, she started to struggle upward—

And jerked in surprise as a pair of hands grabbed her upper arms and hauled her the rest of the way to her feet. “You all right?” a voice wheezed in her ear.

With a supreme effort Jin stifled the reflexive twist-spin-and-fire maneuver she’d been about to execute. The Dominion wouldn’t bother to ask how she was. “I’m fine,” she said, starting a more reasonable turn. The gripping hands released her, and she finished the turn to find herself looking at an unshaven young man, the red ring of one of the Dominion’s so-called insignia neckbands peeking out from his collar. “Are
you
all right?” she asked, frowning at his pinched face.

“It’s just the dust,” he said. “Nice move, by the way.”

“Thanks,” she said, looking back over her shoulder. Through the mass of swirling dust the five Marines were barely visible, lying unmoving amid the debris. They looked dead, but a quick shift to infrared confirmed they were still giving off normal human heat signatures.

“Don’t worry, they should be okay,” the Cobra assured her darkly. “Not that they deserve it. Not after what they did at Archway.”

“Were you there?” Jin asked, turning back to him. “Did you see what happened?”

“No, but I heard all about it afterward.”

“So did I,” Jin said. “My point is that neither of us knows whether or not any of these Marines were involved. If they weren’t, they don’t deserve to die.” She gave a little shrug. “Maybe the ones who were involved don’t, either. That’s for a court to decide.”

“If we ever get them that far.”

“We will,” Jin said. “And when we do, we need to make sure we’re the ones holding the high moral ground. That means that keeping killing to a minimum.”

“Yeah, you tell
them
that,” the Cobra growled, his eyes flashing hatred toward the unconscious Marines. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

He turned and headed down the street at a brisk walk. The pedestrians and cars, Jin noted as she hurried to catch up, had magically vanished from the area. “My aircar’s the other direction,” she told him.

“You mean the aircar they already know about?” the Cobra said pointedly. “Lucky for you, we’ve got another one set up. Brand new—well, brand-new used, anyway—registered to a local woman who looks a lot like you. I’ll take you to it, and then you get the hell out of town. In here.”

He turned and walked into an open shop door. Jin glanced back at the demolished building as she followed, catching a glimpse of the three Dominion aircars burning belatedly back toward the scene. Apparently, whoever was in charge of air support and the herding of the rogue Cobra Jasmine Moreau had decided his job was finished and headed for home.

His meeting with Colonel Reivaro later tonight, she guessed, would not be a pleasant one.

The car they’d gotten her was an older model, without any bells or whistles, and looked like it was on its last legs. But the engine ran smoothly, the interior was clean, and the face on the registration tag did indeed look like a slightly older version of Jin herself.

Perfect.

“You got somewhere to go?” her guide asked as he opened the garage door for her. “Not that I want to know,” he added hastily. “The less I know the better.”

“I’ve got a couple of options,” Jin assured him. “Thanks again.”

“No problem.” He fixed her with a stern look. “You just watch yourself, okay? You and your son are sort of like heroes to everyone out here. Reivaro’s going to want to slap you down and fast.”

“I’ll be careful,” Jin said. “And don’t worry. If this works out like we’re hoping, the Dominion will soon have a lot more headaches than just Lorne and me.”

The Cobra grunted. “We can hope. Good luck.”

A minute later Jin was driving down the streets of Smith’s Forge, blending in with the rest of the town’s vehicular traffic. Ten minutes after that, she had passed through one of the gates in the outer fence and was on the main road to Archway.

Yes, there were several options in front of her. But there was only one that she wanted to take.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the one she knew she
had
to take.

Archway was where her son was, and where he was in danger. She desperately wanted to go to him, to offer her help with whatever scheme he had planned.

But the minute she set foot there the Dominion would be on to her. Probably even before she arrived—Reivaro was surely smart enough to know that his center of power was her most likely destination and have his men waiting.

And even if she somehow managed to find Lorne without bringing the Marines down on him, how much could she realistically help? Her whole body was aching from the workout she’d just put it through, and with her arthritis and anemia it would take more than a few hours for the pain and weakness to go away. About all she could do for Lorne was to get in his way and slow him down.

So Archway was out. Lorne was out.

But there was one other place she might try. A place where Reivaro might not expect her to go. The place where this whole thing had started.

Capitalia.

That was where Commodore Santores came when he wanted to meet with Chintawa and the rest of the Cobra Worlds leaders. That was where new Dominion edicts and orders were distributed from.

And that was where Paul would be brought if and when Santores and the MindsEye were finished with him. When that happened, Jin intended to be waiting for him.

And he’d better be alive and well. Because if he wasn’t, they would be sorry.
Very
sorry.

#

The
Dorian
’s injured had been transported down to Qasama, along with the cadre of medics and support staff Dr. Lancaster had sent to assist, and against all reasonable odds every one of the casualties had survived the transfer. The Qasaman doctors and surgeons had begun their work, and Omnathi had contacted Barrington to say that he’d been assured that none of the injuries were beyond their skill. Barrington had thanked him and, three hours after the official end of his watch, he’d finally turned CoNCH over to Filho and retired to his cabin for some long overdue sleep.

He’d sent his aide, Lieutenant Cottros Meekan, to get a sandwich from the officers’ mess when a specially flagged preliminary report came in.

Five minutes later, Barrington was back in CoNCH.

“We didn’t spot it right away,” Filho said, gesturing to the sensor records he’d pulled up. “It was only when we got down to a detailed analysis that I noticed it. Even then, as you can see, our first orbital pass wasn’t quite on the right angle to get a good view.”

“We get anything on subsequent passes?” Barrington asked.

“No, sir,” Filho said, bringing up another image alongside the first. “By the time we came back around, it was completely concealed. But that one picture, plus the neutrino emission profile, gives us an eighty-five-percent probability that that is indeed the
Squire
.”

Barrington felt his hands curl into fists at his sides. The
Squire
. One of the
Algonquin
’s courier ships, the one Santores had sent to Caelian to bring back Governor Uy.

And which, according to the reports the
Hermes
had brought to him from Aventine, was overdue on its return. At the time the
Hermes
headed out to return to the
Dorian
, in fact, no one knew what was causing the delay.

Apparently, the delay was being caused by the
Squire
no longer being in Cobra Worlds space.

Only how in the name of hell was it
here
?

Barrington’s original multi-band broadcast to Qasama on the
Dorian
’s arrival had hit all the Dominion’s usual frequencies. If Lieutenant Commander Tamu was alive, well, and in command of his ship he should have heard the hail and responded.

But the other likely scenario—that the
Squire
had somehow been captured—was absurd. How could anyone on Caelian, with even fewer weapon and resources to draw on than the central government on Aventine, have taken down a Dominion of Man courier ship? Subterfuge? Incompetence? Treachery?

Treason?

“I had to put it on the data stream,” Filho said into Barrington’s thoughts. “But I figured no one would really notice it for a least a few more hours.”

Barrington nodded. Which was why the weapons officer had flagged it for his captain and not for any of the other officers. He’d wanted to give Barrington some time to draw his conclusions and come up with proposed responses before Castenello got hold of the news.

It was a nice and slightly improper gesture. Only in this case, it was probably wasted.

Because Barrington hadn’t the foggiest idea what to do.

Had the
Squire
come here willingly? In that case, why hadn’t Tamu signaled him when the
Dorian
first arrived? Had the courier been brought here against Tamu’s will? Seizing a Dominion ship was technically an act of war, and Barrington had no doubt that Castenello would see it precisely that way and demand that a military response be launched.

Only what action could Barrington bring with over a hundred of his men currently in Qasaman hands? Even if the Qasamans themselves were too civilized to make war on injured men, the very fact that the men were on the ground made them effectively enemy hostages.

“Captain?”

Barrington turned around. Meekan was standing a few paces behind him, the sandwich container Barrington had sent him for hanging loosely and probably forgotten in his hand. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“My apologies for the impertinence, sir,” Meekan said, his eyes on the images. “I was just wondering if the
Squire
might have run into the same sort of trouble we did on the way here. In that case, perhaps there was no response from Commander Tamu or his men because they’re also undergoing medical treatment.”

“Then why didn’t Omnathi tell us that when we first contacted him?” Filho countered.

“Possibly because I never asked,” Barrington said, stroking a finger absently across his lip. The
Squire
couldn’t have hit the same net the
Hermes
had, not starting from Caelian. But there was no reason their attackers couldn’t have set up a second net on that vector. If the net had included only spider ships and no main-line warships, the courier could conceivably have emerged from the encounter damaged but able to make it to Qasama. If Commander Tamu had obtained the coordinates from Uy or someone else on Caelian, he might well have opted to keep going rather than turn back to Aventine.

In which case, what Filho had spotted down there might have been merely the Qasamans in the process of putting the
Squire
in repair dock, with no deliberate attempt to hide the courier from the
Dorian
’s view.

It was possible. It was also damned unlikely.