Cobra Gamble (41 page)

"Popescu and the others will figure it out for themselves," Kemp said firmly, swiveling around to dangle his legs out the hatchway. "Ready?"

"Ready," Harli said. "You take north; I'll take south."

Their antiarmor lasers flashed in unison, blazing across the landscape as they traced out patterns through the mix of grasses below. Harli keyed in his infrareds, spotted the hot spots he'd created, and sent another blast into each of those areas. A few seconds later the smoldering blue lettros popped out small yellow flames that began to grow and spread. He shifted his attention to the edges of the fires, located the telltale trail of sub-flashpoint ribbon vine and fired another laser blast into it. More flames popped up, and tendrils of oily black smoke began to rise into the air. Harli kept firing, nurturing the growing flames, watching out of the corner of his eye as Kemp similarly worked his end of the field.

And then, all at once, the whole expanse ignited, the flames leaping up almost instantly obscured by the billowing clouds of smoke.

Harli set his teeth, wincing as the first blast of hot air blew up across his face. This was
not
going to be fun. "Last chance to go warn Popescu," he shouted to Kemp.

"We're wasting time," Kemp shouted back. "Last one to the work station's a cooked egg."

Lurching forward, he dropped off the edge of the hatchway and disappeared into the smoke and flame. Taking a final deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut and keying in his opticals, Harli jumped after him.

He hit the ground hard, the landing sending up a double splash of bright sparks and flaming vegetation as he bent his knees to absorb the impact. The smoke and flames were all around him now, tingling his nostrils and washing waves of heat against his clothes and skin. Through the blaze of infrared he could just barely see Kemp already charging through the inferno.

Belatedly, it occurred to him that if the fire made it to the work station before he or Kemp did, this whole thing would be for nothing. Clenching his teeth against the heat and rapidly increasing pain, he set off at a dead run.

He didn't remember much of the trip afterward. The only thing he was ever able to fully recall was the terrible agony as the fire burned across his skin and hair, the acrid smell of the smoke eating away at his throat and lungs, and the quietly horrifying fear that his eyes would be destroyed despite the forearms he had pressed across his face. His feet pounded against the ground, his servos pushing him along faster than his own muscles could ever manage, the cooling wind that would have normally accompanied such a race turned by the fire into a furnace blast. He struggled on, knowing it was their only chance, knowing that Kemp wasn't going to give up and that he damn well wasn't going to either—

And then, suddenly, he was in clear, cool air again. Five meters ahead, he saw Kemp stumble and collapse to his knees beside the work station, small flames still burning on the half-melted silliweave fabric on his shoulders and upper thighs. Harli staggered toward him, blinking his eyes open, wincing at the new wave of pain that effort cost him.

According to his nanocomputer, the entire run had lasted just seven point two seconds.

"Kemp?" he croaked. Two meters past the station was an empty food table with a half-full hundred-liter jug of water in a dispenser beside it. Limping past Kemp, he headed toward it.

"Got it," Kemp croaked back. "System coming up—activating—God, don't let the power and control cables have been burned through—"

"Step back," Harli ordered, pulling the jug from the dispenser and sloshing a little of the water out onto the ground as he turned it upright. "Come on, step back."

"It's done," Kemp said, breathing shallowly as he pulled himself to his feet and staggered back from the control board. "But if it doesn't work—"

"It'll work," Harli said, directing splashes of water onto the remaining flames and then, for good measure, pouring some over Kemp's head. "Trust me. It'll work."

The words were barely out of his mouth when, through the roar of the fire, he heard the creaking of moving metal.

He looked over at the downed ship. Through the billowing smoke he could see that it was on the move, rising ponderously up from the ground as the grav lifts the Troft prisoners had moved to the sides and broken lower wings ran to full power. The ship continued to rise, moving faster now as it approached the top of its arc. It reached it, and for a brief moment it stood proudly upright again for the first time since Harli and the other Cobras had knocked it over.

But it didn't stay vertical for more than that brief second. The grav lifts were still pushing, the wrecked cascade regulator was no longer there to ease back their power, and the huge mass of metal had built up way too much momentum. The ship kept moving and toppled over in the other direction, slamming into the newly-arrived ship with an ear-splitting grinding of metal against metal.

For a moment the two ships seemed to pause, teetering and shaking. Then, with an even louder shriek of grinding metal, they fell over together in a violent crash that shook the ground so hard it nearly knocked Harli off his feet.

For a long moment the only sound was the crackling roar of the frames. Finally, Kemp stirred. "Popescu," he said in a hoarse voice, "is going to be furious."

Harli drew a careful breath into his aching lungs. "I
said
you should go back and warn him."

"He'll get over it." Taking the jug from Harli's blackened hands, he sprayed some of the water onto a smoldering fire on Harli's shoulder that he hadn't even noticed was there. "But we should probably let him know that the Trofts probably won't be up for a fight anytime soon," he added. "Might be a good time for him to call on the captain to surrender."

"Sorry, I didn't think to grab a radio," Harli apologized. He waved wearily at the fire. "And I don't think I'm up to delivering the message in person."

"Me, neither," Kemp conceded. "Well, if Popescu wants us, he'll find us."

"Sure," Harli said. "Come on, let's see if they left any burn salve or painkillers in the hospital when they moved everyone out."

"Sounds like a plan." Kemp peered at his blistered hands. "You really think the Qasamans were able to grow Paul Broom's leg back?"

"They said they could" Harli said. "Don't know how they'll do with burns, but it's worth checking out. When this is over, we'll talk to Rashida about setting us up."

"Assuming she survives," Kemp said quietly.

Harli winced. "Yes," he said. "Assuming she survives."

* * *

Jody's original concern had been that the Trofts would come charging into the caves the minute their ship landed, catching her and the others out in the open. But the captain's decision to first burn away any nearby ambush positions had given their prey the time they needed to cross the chamber and get to Smitty's chosen rock chimney.

Getting there, unfortunately, turned out to be only half the battle. Smitty was an expert at that kind of climbing, and Rashida had the method down after her first try. But for some reason it took Jody a dozen attempts and ten minutes of intensive coaching before she finally figured out the necessary technique: back and feet braced on opposite sides of the chimney, hands pushing down to move her back upward, feet simultaneously walking up the other side. She still felt a lot more awkward than either of the others looked, but at least she was able to do it.

And with that, they finally started up.

Smitty, who knew the route and the tricky parts of the chimney, took the lead. Jody came next, a meter behind him, still struggling. Rashida, moving much more gracefully, brought up the rear. Smitty hadn't been able to find any rope aboard the ship during their race to the caves, but Rashida had used Jody's prolonged tutoring time to carefully tear the silliweave bag into strips and then braid them the sturdy-looking lines that now tied the three climbers to each other.

Though
sturdy-looking,
Jody knew, didn't necessarily mean
sturdy.
As they worked their way up the rock tube she found herself staring at the rope hanging loosely between her belt and Smitty's, wondering how much weight the thing could actually take. Hoping fervently that they never had to find out.

They were nearly to the top of the chimney, and Jody could see the glow of diffuse sunlight seeping between Smitty's torso and arms, when she heard the clink of metal on rock beneath her.

She froze, wondering fleetingly if she dared speak up to warn Smitty and Rashida. Fortunately, they'd apparently also heard the noise, and stopped as quickly as she had.

For a moment there was nothing more. Jody peered down over her shoulder, trying to see past Rashida to the bottom. But all she could see was the dark rock of the chimney and the even darker rock far below.

But other sounds were now starting to drift up: the sound of feet shuffling across pebble-strewn rock, an occasional distant and muffled Troft voice, a few more random clinks and thuds. Jody strained her ears, trying to figure out if all of it was getting closer to them, but the natural echo of the huge chamber thwarted her efforts.

And then, without warning, a Troft stepped into view beneath them.

Jody held her breath. He seemed to be looking around, his helmet and laser turning slowly as he surveyed the area.

There was a breath of movement above Jody, and she looked up to see Smitty ease his left leg out of its bracing position against the rock wall and stretch it out along the side of the chimney, aiming his antiarmor laser downward. Clenching her teeth, trying not to dislodge any loose stone from the wall, Jody eased herself as far out of his fine of fire as she could. She looked down, hoping Rashida had also spotted Smitty's maneuver and was likewise giving him room to shoot.

She wasn't. Her eyes were still on the Troft, her left hand pointed downward, the glove laser along the little finger lined up on the alien's helmet. Either she hadn't seen what Smitty was doing, or else had decided for some other reason to take this one on herself. Only she'd apparently forgotten that her laser didn't have enough power to cut through that helmet. In fact, at this range, it might not be able to penetrate even his much more vulnerable faceplate.

Jody reached down, trying to touch Rashida's shoulder, trying to get her attention. But the shoulder was out of her reach. "Rashida, no," she whispered as loudly as she dared.

Rashida didn't respond. The Troft looked around once more and started to step away from the chimney.

And then, almost as if it was an afterthought, he tilted his head back and looked up. His radiator membranes snapped out from his upper arms, and he swung his laser up.

Rashida fired first, her laser sending a bolt squarely into the Troft's faceplate. An instant later, the Troft's much more powerful shot flashed up the chimney, shattering a section of wall near Rashida's feet and sending out a stinging spray of jagged rock chips.

And with that part of Rashida's support suddenly cut out from under her feet, she lost her hold and tumbled down the chimney.

In that first frozen half second the only thing that saved her was the makeshift rope tying her belt to Jody's. The rope jerked taut as she fell, spinning her upright and bouncing her shoulders and back against the chimney wall. The sudden additional weight yanked at Jody, dragging her a few centimeters downward before she and her suit's servos could increase the pressure against the rock and bring her to a halt. Her upper arms were pressed hard against the stone at her back, adding their pressure to help hold her in place. Risking the loss of some of that pressure, she reached down and managed to grab Rashida's arm as the other woman flailed for balance.

Her fingers had barely closed around Rashida's wrist when the silliweave rope snapped.

Jody braced herself. But this latest jolt was too much. With a surge of helpless horror she felt her back being pulled inexorably downward, the rough stone digging grooves into her skin beneath the power suit material. Clenching her teeth, she pressed her feet even harder against the other side, trying to halt her slide.

But she was already too far out of balance. Desperately, she dropped her right foot to a lower section of wall, hoping to reestablish a brace. But even as she tried to get it wedged a second laser blast sizzled up from below, this one shattering a section of wall above her and raining stone fragments into her face. She winced away, reflexively raising her other arm to protect her eyes.

With a wrenching twist, she lost her fight for balance and started to tumble down the chimney, jerking to a halt an instant later as the rope tying her to Smitty snapped taut. Blinking the swirling rock dust from her eyes, she looked up to see Smitty's hand reaching down and grabbed it just as the rope broke. She slammed back-first against the wall, her legs bouncing off Rashida's torso.

And then, even as she tried to catch her breath, a brilliant flash of blue lanced through the air in front of her face.

With Jody and Rashida finally out of his way, Smitty had fired his antiarmor laser.

Jody never actually heard the sound of the Troft hitting the stone. But as she peered down the chimney, trying to look around the afterimage Smitty's shot had burned into her retinas, she could see the alien's smoldering body sprawled on the cavern floor.

"Don't just hang there," Smitty grunted from above her. "Get your feet back up, and let's move it. Jody, you have to go first—Rashida can't move with you in her way."

"Right." Carefully, remembering to let her suit's servos do most of the work, Jody lifted her legs and planted them again on the opposite side of the chimney. "Okay," she said. "Rashida?"

"No," Rashida said quietly.

Jody looked down in surprise. Rashida was still hanging from Jody's grip, making no attempt to get back into climbing position. "What?"

"We can't do it," Rashida said, her voice dark but determined. "Not all of us. The other invaders will surely have seen the battle and even now will be coming."

"So stop jabbering and get moving," Smitty snapped. "Come on."