Cobra Gamble (44 page)

"As did everyone in this room," Lorne said. "I don't see the Council throwing us parades or hushing up
our
collection of ridiculous charges."

"Easy, Lorne," Corwin murmured. "Governor-General Chintawa's not the enemy here."

"He's right, Cobra Broom," Chintawa agreed. "Believe me, I'd like nothing better than to give you full pardons right now and sweep this whole thing out the door. But the fact is that Governor Treakness
did
give Ms. Gendreves full diplomatic authority, and she
did
order you not to give Isis to the Qasamans. Even you admit that, and we have Dr. Croi's testimony as well."

"And we're sure Governor Treakness never said anything to clarify his authorization?" Thena asked.

Chintawa shook his head. "I doubt the Trofts ever bothered to ask him. I'm not even sure how much of those last few hours he was conscious. The point is that charges have been made and corroborated. Unless the Council reaches deep within itself for understanding and charity—and you know the chances of
that
happening—you're going to have to be arrested and stand trial."

"So much for the Cobra-haters suddenly seeing the light," Paul murmured.

"Not likely," Chintawa said with a sigh. "You can force-read them the reports from Caelian and Qasama all day long, but what they
saw
was our Aventinian Cobras sitting around not doing a damn thing."

"At
their
specific orders," Corwin reminded him.

"Of course," Chintawa said. "You want logic and consistency, get out of politics." His lip twitched in a smile. "As, of course, you did. Sometimes I have to admit I envy you that decision."

Jin looked at Paul, and she could tell he was thinking the same thing she was: that her Uncle Corwin hadn't left politics so much as he'd been booted out. But of course Chintawa knew that.

"And now with Isis in Qasaman hands they've got an even bigger Cobra bugaboo to worry about," Lorne pointed out.

"With more than a little justification," Chintawa said, an edge of annoyance in his tone. "I know how warm and trusting you all are when it comes to the Qasamans, but there's no guarantee that your decision won't someday turn sour on us. And if the Qasamans ever decide they want vengeance for whatever real or imagined wrongs the Worlds have inflicted on them, what we've just gone through with the Trofts will seem like a stroll down the river."

"It won't happen," Lorne said firmly.

"I hope to God it doesn't." Chintawa hesitated, then looked at Jin. "I understand there was a letter," he said, the annoyance gone. "May I see it?"

Jin hesitated. But he probably had a right to see the actual note. Reaching into her tunic, she slipped the envelope out of the inner pocket, the one closest to her heart. She pulled out the single slip of paper, unfolded it, and for the hundred thousandth time in the past three days her eyes traced across the confusing, bleak, hopeful words.

The drogfowl cacciatore of home, I will look forward to tasting it again soon. My family, they will welcome my return. Courage.

Jody was standing quietly beside her when Jin looked up. Blinking back sudden tears, she handed her daughter the note. Holding it like she would a piece of fine crystal, Jody crossed the room and offered it to Chintawa.

For a long moment he gazed down at it. Then, he looked up again. "What do you make of it?"

"We're not sure," Paul admitted. "The words are Anglic, but the grammar form is Troft. The handwriting isn't Merrick's, and I doubt very much it's even human. It was delivered to Jin by the Tlossies, but they claim it didn't originate with them. We've made at least a hundred inquiries, but every one of them has either been ignored or run straight into a steel-core wall."

"Someone
knows what happened to Merrick," Lorne put in. "But whoever that is, he isn't talking."

"Hmm," Chintawa said, looking at the letter again. "And you're sure the message is from him?"

"We had drogfowl cacciatore the night we got the first letter," Paul said. "The one that took Jin and Merrick to Qasama in the first place. More than that, I used those words as an identifier when I communicated with him just before his capture. No, Merrick's the only one who could have sent this message."

"I see," Chintawa murmured.
"Courage.
That's probably good advice right now. For all of us."

Corwin cleared his throat. "And speaking of drogfowl cacciatore and conspiracies," he said, "I'd like to point out that Thena and I were also at that meeting. If you're going to charge my niece and her family with treason, you'd best put us in the docket along with them."

Chintawa snorted. "If you think I'm going to put any more necks into Ms. Gendreves's noose than I have to, you can forget it." Carefully, reverently, he handed the letter back to Jody and stood up. "At any rate, I should be getting back to the Dome. I just wanted to let you all know that I, personally, am very glad to see you all safe and sound."

Jin's throat tightened. All of them except Merrick.

"I also wanted to let you know that I'm not the only one on the Council who appreciates what you've done," the governor-general added. "Let's all just hope and pray that the Qasamans are as friendly as you believe."

"We don't need them to be our friends," Corwin said mildly. "All we need is for them to
not
be our enemies."

"Right now, I'd be happy with either," Chintawa said. "Well... good night, all. Don't get up, Thena—I'll let myself out."

He walked out of the room. Jin keyed in her audio enhancers, following his footsteps as he continued down the hallway and then opened and closed the door. "Any thoughts?" she asked, keying the audios back down. "Uncle Corwin?"

Corwin shrugged. "I think he's sincere, for whatever that's worth."

"Probably not much," Jody said, an edge of bitterness in her voice as she returned the precious letter to her mother. "All we went through on Caelian—and she
saw
all of it—and she
still
turns around and stabs us in the back."

"Don't be too hard on her," Corwin advised. "The first thing a politician learns is not to make threats he isn't willing or able to carry out. Having accused you of treason in front of a room full of witnesses, she really had no choice but to follow through on it."

"Besides, from her point of view she's entirely correct," Paul pointed out. "If we're wrong about the Qasamans, our giving Isis to them is going to get
all
of us stabbed in the back."

"And on that cheery note," Jin said, giving Merrick's note one final lingering look before returning it to its envelope, "we should probably get going. It's been a long day, and tomorrow's likely to be even longer."

"And you two are still recovering from surgery," Lorne added, standing up and stepping to Jin's side. "Let me give you a hand."

"Can I ask one last question?" Jody spoke up suddenly. "It's funny how when you think you're going to die the weirdest questions pop into your head." She turned to Corwin. "Uncle Corwin: why do you call this house the Island?"

Jin looked at her daughter in surprise. But Corwin merely chuckled. "You know, I've been waiting twenty years for one of you to give up on all your private and group speculation and just come out and ask. Well done, Jody. Direct questions are a sign of maturity, you know."

"Hey, I've asked you before," Jin protested. "You would never tell me."

"You hinted broadly, but you never actually asked," Corwin corrected. "Any of you ever hear the old saying
a mind is like a parachute—it only works when it's open?"

"You've got to be kidding," Lorne said with a snort. "I think that one goes all the way back to DaVinci."

"Granted," Corwin said. "What's often forgotten is that the purpose of a parachute isn't to
stay
open, but to guide you safely to the ground."

"Interesting point," Paul murmured. "You're right; most people don't think it all the way through."

"I always had to keep an open mind in politics, you see," Corwin continued. "Not open in the sense of listening to different ideas and positions, but open in the sense of too often having to compromise my deepest moral and ethical convictions in the name of unity or other high-sounding but usually meaningless concepts."

He reached across to Thena's chair and took his wife's hand. "But then I retired," he said. "Now, I can hold those convictions as tightly as I want. As tightly as I always promised myself I would."

Jin caught her breath. Finally, after all these years, she got it. "Island," she murmured. "I
land!"

"Exactly," Corwin said. "I'm sorry if the solution isn't nearly as intriguing or interesting as the mystery. But I'm old, you know, and I was never very clever to begin with."

"There's nothing wrong with the solution," Jin assured him. "It's both elegant and clever—"

"Just a moment," Corwin said, lifting a finger as he pulled out his phone. He frowned at the display, then keyed it on and held it to his ear. "Yes?"

For a few seconds he listened in silence, his expression tightening. "We'll be right there," he said at last. "Yes, just as soon as we can."

He keyed off. "That was Chintawa," he told the others. "He just got a call from the Dome, and he wants all of us to join him there right away. Front entrance, he said, and just leave your car at the curb."

"We're going to the Dome
now?"
Lorne echoed, frowning. "What, have they got treason trials on the night shift?"

"Maybe they decided to skip the trial and go straight to the execution," Jody suggested.

"You can write out your impassioned appeal on the way," Corwin said, gesturing toward the front door. "For now, just drive. Thena and I will get our car and meet you there."

* * *

To Jin, the Dome looked its usual nighttime self as they drove up to the front entrance—dark, quiet, and peopled mainly by overworked clerks and aides.

But that first look was deceiving. Even as they got out of the car, she could see a dozen other vehicles converging on different parts of the building, plus multiple flashes of headlights from the parking structure across the street. Whatever was happening, she and her family weren't the only ones who'd been called in.

Even more ominously, there were
six
Cobra guards flanking the door instead of the usual two.

An aide was waiting for them just inside the building. He waited in silence with them until Corwin and Thena arrived, then led the whole group to the small communications routing room near the center of the Dome.

Chintawa was already there, his face tight as he gazed at the status display above the two techs seated at the board. "Thank you for coming," he said as the aide ushered the six of them into the room. "I think we may have just gotten an answer to the question of why the Trofts picked this particular moment to try to conquer us and the Qasamans." He gestured to one of the techs. "Put it up."

The tech nodded and touched a switch, and the display became a telescopic view of the sky over Capitalia.

A sky with three huge ships floating against the stars.

Jin gasped. "Are those—?"

"Trofts?" Chintawa shook his head. "Fortunately, no. Or maybe not so fortunately." He took a deep breath. "I asked you here because—well, listen for yourselves."

Stepping to the board, he picked up a mike and keyed the switch. "Commodore Santores, this is Governor-General Michaelo Chintawa," he said. "My apologies for not being here when you first made contact."

"Quite understandable. Governor Chintawa," a booming, cheerful voice came from the speaker. "It
is
night there, after all. Permit me, if you will, to formally introduce myself to you: Commodore Rubo Santores of the Dominion of Man, commanding the Star Cruisers
Megalith, Algonquin,
and
Dorian.
After nearly three-quarters of a century of wondering what happened to their grand Cobra Worlds experiment, the Dome finally decided it was time to send someone to see for themselves. That someone would be us."

"We're honored by your presence," Chintawa said cautiously. "As you can see, we're alive and well."

"And from the looks of things, even thriving," Santores agreed. "We're pleased and relieved to find you so."

"Thank you," Chintawa said. "I understand there was also something in your mission profile about bringing us back into the Dominion fold?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Santores said off-handedly.

"Everything Dome does has some kind of political subtext, you know. Well, no, of course you don't know that. But we can discuss all that later, perhaps when I come down to formally present my credentials."

"Yes, of course," Chintawa said. "I trust morning will be soon enough? It may take a while to assemble the Council."

"Take whatever time you need," Santores said. "My task force and I are entirely at your disposal."

"Thank you." Chintawa looked over at Jin and the others and visibly braced himself. "I understand there was one other matter one of your officers expressed some interest in?"

"Oh, yes," Santores said. "Though this one's purely unofficial, of course. The commander of the
Dorian,
Captain Barrington Jame Moreau, was hoping that some descendants of his grandfather, the First Cobra Jonny Moreau, might still be with you. If so, he'd be most interested in meeting them."

"I think we'll be able to find a few family members for him to talk to," Chintawa said. "With your permission. Commodore, we'll continue this conversation tomorrow morning."

"At your convenience. Governor," Santores said.
"Megalith
out."

The radio went silent. For a long moment, the room remained likewise. "You see," Chintawa said at last, "why I asked you all to come here."

"Indeed," Corwin said. "Am I to assume that my retirement from politics has just ended?"

"Yes," Chintawa said soberly. "I'm very much afraid that it has."

THE END