Cobra Gamble (26 page)

But there was one other option.

He set off across the room again, keeping an eye over his shoulder and adjusting his pace to let the jormungand slowly gain on him. This was going to require careful timing, and be horrendously risky even if he nailed it precisely. He checked the distance in front of him, slowed down a bit, then looked back again. The jormungand, perhaps concluding its prey was starting to tire, had put on an impressive burst of speed, closing to within a meter of his heels as Merrick neared the wall. Again, he adjusted his pace to maintain his lead. He reached his jump-off point, two meters from the wall, and leaped up and forward, throwing out his hands to catch the wall that was now rushing toward him.

And as he soared above the exit door directly beneath him, the door Commander Ukuthi had warned had been wired with explosives, he sent an antiarmor shot straight through the panel.

The explosion was every bit as powerful as Merrick had expected, the blast hammering into his ears as the shock wave buffeted him. He slammed palms-first into the wall, his arm servos absorbing the impact, his hooked fingers finding a tenuous grip in cracks in the masonry.

But Ukuthi's explosives experts had done their job right. As hard as Merrick had been hit by the edge of the blast, the main force had been straight outward, disintegrating the door and hurling the pieces across the room like multiple champagne corks as a gigantic fireball burst out behind them. Merrick peered down through the swirling dust and superheated air to see a wide section of blackened and newly cracked floor.

And in the center of the destruction, the charred and motionless form of the jormungand.

The best-case scenario had been that the explosion would kill the thing outright. Incredibly, though, it was still alive, its tail making small twitching movements, its whole body shaking with the shock of the damage. Merrick had no idea how extensive the creature's injuries were or if, left to itself, it might survive and recover.

He also had no intention of finding out.

It took five long antiarmor blasts to finally burn a small hole through the scales in the very tip of the jormungand's tail. But once that was done, the rest was straightforward. Sitting down behind the snake, he lined up his left leg with the opening and opened fire.

The snake could have all the armor it wanted on the outside. But its insides should cook just as well as those of any other living being.

The flexible laser conduit across Merrick's ankle was starting to become uncomfortably hot when the jormungand's twitching and shaking finally stopped.

Taking a shaking breath, Merrick got back to his feet, wincing as the assorted aches and pains he'd collected started making themselves felt through the fading adrenaline in his system. He looked across the room, wondering if the shock of the blast had knocked the dangling catwalk the rest of the way off the wall. But it was still hanging on.

So, to his quiet relief, was Anya. "You okay?" he called.

She nodded, a jerky movement. "Hang on," he said, starting toward her. "I'm coming."

He'd taken three steps when he heard a scurrying sound behind him. Instantly, he spun around, snapping his hands up into firing position.

But it wasn't another razorarm or jormungand. It was just a few Troft soldiers, scrambling madly to guard the corridor that now lay wide open in front of him.

An hour ago, Merrick might have been tempted. But not now. [The effort, don't bother with it,] he called. Turning around again, he continued walking toward the catwalk.

A minute later, he had Anya safely down. [The Games, do they now continue?] he called toward the ceiling.

[The Games, they are over,] Ukuthi said. [Your abilities, they are beyond even my expectations.]

[My satisfaction, it swells with your enjoyment,] Merrick said sarcastically. [Your associates, did they also enjoy the show?]

There was no answer. But across the room, one of the large display panels came to life.

And Merrick saw a row of silent Trofts seated in a small room. All were in uniforms, and most were wearing what the Qasaman military had tentatively identified as senior officer insignia. The one in the center was also wearing the distinctive red sash of a demesne-heir.

Merrick had just enough time to wonder what that was all about when the image winked off. [The demonstration, my associates did indeed enjoy it,] Ukuthi confirmed calmly. [Rest and food, you may now have them.]

Merrick grimaced. [The shackles, must I submit to them?]

[The shackles, there will be no need for them.] Behind Anya, a door swung open to reveal another of the arena's storage rooms, this one furnished like Merrick's old cell. [The doctor, I will also send him to you,] Ukuthi added.

[A doctor, I do not need one,] Merrick said.

[The doctor, I will send him,] Ukuthi said, his tone making it clear that it was an order. [A conversation, we will have one soon.]

"Sure," Merrick said under his breath. [The woman, her services I also no longer need.]

[The woman, she will remain with you.]

Merrick snorted. With Ukuthi no doubt hoping the two captive humans would bond even more closely.

But it was already too late, and Merrick knew it. He'd put his life on the line to get Anya to safety. Despite his best efforts to keep his distance, he was already emotionally entangled with her.

What Ukuthi was planning to do with that connection he didn't know. But he knew it wouldn't be good.

Anya was standing quietly, watching Merrick. Waiting for orders. "Come on," he said, trudging toward his new cell. "Let's get some rest."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It had been five days since Jody, Rashida, and Smitty had started poring over the Troft warships control boards. They had translated everything, relabeled most of the controls, especially the ones Smitty would need to use, and painstakingly applied Rashida's freighter techniques to the larger ship. As far as Jody could tell, they had everything down cold.

But ultimately, the only way to know whether they did or not was to actually try it.

Kemp had strongly urged that they finally tell Harli the whole truth about what they'd been doing before the test. But Rashida was still terrified of the consequences of admitting her earlier evasions, and Jody had backed her up. Both women readily agreed, though, that they should warn Harli to move the Caelians still working on the downed ship to a safe distance.

And with that now done, it was finally the moment of truth.

"Grav-lift power levels?" Rashida called across the control room.

"Ready," Jody reported, eyeing the proper displays and then checking the main drive registers. "Drive's still coming up. Probably two more minutes."

"Everything outside looks good," Smitty added from the sensor station. "Everyone's back far enough. Temp and oscillation-resonance readings on the engines are holding."

Standing out of the way by the door, Kemp keyed his field radio. "We're about ready" he reported. "Grav lifts are at power; Jody says two more minutes on the drive."

"Acknowledged," Harli's voice came back. "Remind them to take it easy. We've got plenty of time, and the last thing we need is
two
Troft warships lying on their sides."

"Right," Kemp said. "You get that, Rashida?"

"Yes," Rashida said. Her voice seemed steady enough, but Jody could sense the tension beneath it. "Let me know when the drive power—"

"I've got movement," Smitty said suddenly, leaning toward one of his displays. "A Troft—make that
two
Trofts—running toward the downed ship."

"Harli, you've got runners," Kemp snapped into the radio. "Vector ninety, heading for the downed ship."

"We're on them," Harli said tightly "We've got three—oh,
hell."

"What is it?" Jody demanded, craning her neck and trying to see Smitty's monitors. But from her angle she could barely even tell which ones were active and which ones weren't. "Smitty? What's going on?"

"I can't tell," Smitty said tautly. "Got some smoke—where the
hell
did they get smoke bombs?—laser flashes—okay; one of them's down. The other's still running—wait a minute, there are two more now. Still going all-out for the downed ship—"

"Get that ship out of there," Harli's voice barked suddenly from the radio. "Kemp? You copy?"

"We copy," Kemp said. "Where do you want them to put it?"

"Anywhere!" Harli snarled. "Just
get it out of there!"

"You heard him, Rashida," Jody put in. "Do it."

For a second nothing happened. Then, with a sudden lurch, the warship lifted into the sky. "You did it!" Jody called. "Rashida—"

She broke off, grabbing for the edge of her control board as the ship tilted forward. "Straighten up!" she snapped. "Rashida—we're falling! You have to straighten up."

"No, no, she's right," Smitty said. "She's leaning us forward so the grav lifts can buy us some distance."

Distance from what?
Jody clamped down hard on the question. Whatever was going on, at least Rashida and Smitty seemed to be on the same page about it.

"Drive power?" Rashida called.

With an effort, Jody focused on the display "Low but functional."

"Smitty?" Rashida asked.

"Right," Smitty said. "Tip 'er back three degrees and give it a try."

"Wait a second," Jody protested, grabbing for her board again as the ship leveled itself. "What are we—?"

"Now!" Smitty barked.

And with another, even more violent lurch the ship shot forward.

"Good," Smitty said, raising his voice over the laboring rumble of the engines. "Ease er back—straighten up—that's good. A little more..."

"Kemp?" Harli called.

"We're here," Kemp said. "Situation?"

"Resolved," Harli bit out. "Mostly. How's the ship doing?"

"Seems fine," Kemp said. "Rashida and the others are running it like pros. You want us to bring it back?"

"Yes," Harli said. "No, wait. Can you maneuver it over to the landing field?"

"Rashida?" Kemp asked.

For a moment nothing happened. Then, the ship began to turn, slowly and gently enough that only Jody's inner ear was aware of the motion. "Yes, I think so," Rashida said.

"She says yes," Kemp relayed. "As close to the wall as possible, I assume?"

"Without actually hitting it, yes," Harli said sourly. "Actually, give it a few meters farther than she thinks she can do without hitting it. I've had enough disasters and near-disasters for one day."

"What happened?" Jody called. "Harli?"

"You just concentrate on landing the damn warship," Harli called back. "There'll be time for talk later. I'll send an aircar to meet you."

"We can walk it if you'd rather," Kemp offered.

"I wouldn't," Harli said flatly. "Not with the shape the field's in. When you're down, just wait inside until the aircar gets there." There was a click and the radio went dead.

"Okay," Kemp said. "Nice and easy, now. Like he said, we've got time."

The ship began to turn again. "What did he mean by the shape the field's in?" Rashida asked.

"It's like the clear zone around Stronghold, only more so," Smitty said. "As in, seriously on the overgrown side."

Jody grimaced.
Overgrown
was putting it mildly. Three weeks of neglect had allowed Caelian's aggressive plant life a head start on reclaiming the fifty-meter zone around the city that was normally kept clear of such intrusions. The rectangular landing field south of the city, without even the continual human and Troft trampling that was currently taking place in the area around the two warships, would be even worse. "He means knee-deep in hookgrass and razor fern," she told Rashida.

"And all the other delightful things that live there," Smitty said. "Waiting for an aircar will be a lot simpler."

"Not to mention that it'll get us back across town faster," Kemp said grimly. "I for one want to find out what the hell just happened back there."

"And whether it's going to complicate our lives?" Smitty asked.

Kemp snorted. "Oh, well, that's pretty much a given. The only question is how badly."

* * *

"This," Harli said, holding up a double-fist-sized piece of smashed electronics, "is what the ship techs call a grav-lift cascade regulator. Or at least, that's what it used to be. Now, it's a desktop junk sculpture."

"Any chance of fixing it?" Kemp asked, taking the device and turning it over in his hands.

"Anything can be fixed if you have spare parts and know how to put them together," Harli growled. "Which means, no, we can't. Not a chance." He gestured toward the downed ship. "We're just damned lucky you got the other ship out of there in time."

Jody gazed at the downed warship, a shiver running through her. "So it really would have flipped all the way over if they'd gotten to the generators and started up the grav lifts?"

"We don't know for sure," Harli said. "But the techs say there's a good chance that it would have. Straight up, straight over, and a nice little domino effect when it slammed into yours." He gestured to Jody. "That was fast thinking, by the way, using a drive pulse to blow away the smoke once you were clear. Made it a lot easier to spot and laser them."

"Actually, it was Rashida's idea," Jody told him. "She and Smitty coordinated it together."

"In that case, good job, Rashida and Smitty," Harli said, a little testily. "As long as you two are brimming with ideas, you got one for making sure the Trofts don't pull another stunt like this?"

"You know my views," Smitty muttered. "Shoot them all and be done with it."

"We've been through this," Jody said firmly. "Moral high ground, remember?"

"Yeah, I know," Smitty said. "It just feels good to say it every so often, that's all."

"Harli's right, though," Kemp said. "A homemade smoke bomb's reasonably harmless, and even with that Eubujak nearly caused a catastrophe. The next gadget he comes up with will be a lot nastier."

"Bet on it," Harli said grimly. He hissed out a sigh. "And that about wraps things up for your fancy curtain, too, Jody. I'm sorry, but we're going to have to leave the downed ship right where it is. There's no way we can risk trying to lift it now."