Cobra Gamble (6 page)

"Daulo Sammon," Omnathi said gravely as the doctor wheeled Daulo's chair up to the table. "My apologies for bringing you here instead of letting you go directly to your departure area."

"No apologies needed, Your Excellency," Daulo said, making the gesture of respect and throwing a furtive glance at the unknown man. From the look on his face, it was clear he wasn't happy with this interruption to their meeting. "But what is this departure area business? Why is everyone leaving in such a hurry?"

"The invaders are destroying Sollas," Omnathi said, "and that destruction is nearing this area."

Daulo winced. No wonder the doctor had been in such a hurry. "Then you're right, we'd best get moving," he said, glancing down at his robe and recovery jumpsuit. "It would be very embarrassing to die looking like this."

"No fears of that," Omnathi assured him. "Some of the earlier refugees were met with violence, but the later groups have been allowed to leave unharmed." He gestured at Daulo's clothing. "And more suitable travel clothing is waiting at the departure area. The doctor will help you change before you go."

"Thank you, Your Excellency, that will be very helpful," Daulo said, a small relief trickling into the simmering darkness of fear and uncertainty. At least they weren't going to be shot the moment they reached the outside air. "My apologies for the impertinence, but may I ask why exactly I'm here?"

"Marid Miron Akim and I wished to say a final farewell," Omnathi said. "You and your family have served Qasama well, and we wanted you to know how grateful we were for that service. May God watch over you, and may you win through to see your village again."

"Thank you, Your Excellency," Daulo said, again making the sign of respect. "To both Your Excellencies," he added, this time including Miron Akim in the gesture. "But if we're all leaving the city together, it would seem to me that your farewells are premature." He frowned as a thought occurred to him. "Or
won't
we be traveling together?"

"Our paths will lead—" Omnathi's lip twitched "—along different roads. When you and the remaining civilians from this sector depart from the subcity, the invaders will learn the location of one more hidden passageway. With that knowledge, they'll undoubtedly enter to explore for data or useful items that may have been left behind. We will remain behind to make one final assault upon them."

Daulo looked at the six gray-suited men standing silently against the walls. "What,
six
of you against the entire force of invaders?"

"Seven," Akim corrected calmly. "Though I'm a civilian, as Marid-commander I also count myself among the Djinn."

"My apologies, Marid Akim," Daulo said. "But I fail to see how one extra Djinni will tip the military balance. In fact, I can't see how you can accomplish anything but a waste of all your lives."

"Your impertinence is not welcome, villager," the third man said brusquely. "These men are warriors of Qasama. They'll attack the invaders because it's their duty to do so."

"Their duty is to die uselessly?" Daulo countered.

The man's eyes narrowed. "You've said your farewells, villager. Now leave."

There was something in his tone and manner that told Daulo the smart thing to do would be to close his mouth and obey. But just as he had thirty years earlier, when Jin Moreau came to Milika and asked for his help, he ignored the quiet warning. "Not until I understand why you're doing this," he said firmly. "I've faced the invaders' weapons. You may be able to kill a few of them, but you can't prevent them from ultimately winning through. Is there something in here of military value that can't be removed or destroyed?"

"No, nothing," Akim said.

"Then why not just leave with us?" Daulo pressed. "Out in the forest, you can regroup and choose a better time to resume the fight."

"You will be silent, and you
will
leave," the third man repeated, and this time there was no mistaking the authoritative anger in his tone. "Or I will order you to stay and fight alongside them."

Daulo snorted. "And who are you who presumes to order me
and
the Djinn?"

The man drew himself up. "I am Shahni Dariuz Haafiz."

Daulo felt his tongue freeze against the roof of his mouth, a sudden swell of horrified panic washing over him. Dressed in civilian clothing, bereft of the elaborate robes of office, he hadn't been as instantly recognizable as he would normally have been. "My most sincere apologies, Your Excellency," Daulo managed, bowing over in his wheelchair and hastily making the sign of respect.

"Your apologies are tardy and not accepted," Haafiz growled. "Now leave us as you were ordered."

Daulo straightened up. The doctor was starting to pull the wheelchair back from the table, and once again the smart thing to do would be to simply go.

But there was something in Omnathi's expression... "Forgive the further impertinence, Your Excellency," Daulo said, grabbing the wheels and bringing the chair to an abrupt halt. "But I still fail to see why these men are to be needlessly sacrificed."

"Your impertinence is not forgiven," Haafiz bit out. "Nor is your understanding required or sought. Your only task is to obey the orders you've been given."

"The Djinn cannot simply leave with you and the others, Daulo Sammon," Omnathi said. "Their combat suits will instantly identify them to the invaders. If they try to leave, they'll be cut down instantly." He looked at Haafiz. "And their lives will be even more uselessly sacrificed."

Daulo stared at Omnathi, then at Akim and Haafiz. Were all three of them blind? "Then why not have them simply remove the combat suits?" he asked.

"Impossible," Haafiz said. "Without their combat suits, they are nothing."

Akim and Omnathi, Daulo noticed suddenly, were watching him closely. "Your forgiveness, Your Excellency, but that's simply not true," he said firmly. "Without their combat suits—without any weapons at all—they're still warriors of Qasama. As you yourself said only moments ago." He looked into the eyes of the young man standing behind Akim. "And as such they're too valuable to our world to be needlessly thrown away."

Haafiz sniffed contemptuously. "Are you of the Shahni now, Daulo Sammon?" he demanded. "Do you now make the law for Qasama?"

Daulo grimaced, looking around the room. The six Djinn stood stiff and proud, their expressions those of men ready and willing to die for their world and their people.

But as he looked deeper into their eyes, he could also see that they, too, saw no honor in dying in a useless ambush that would serve no genuine purpose.

And they were young. So young. No older than Daulo's own son Fadil.

What had happened to Fadil? With a flush of surprise and shame, Daulo realized he hadn't even thought to ask.

But this wasn't the time for that. There were other young lives balanced on the edge here. Somehow, he had to find a way to save them from this madness.

He looked at Akim as a sudden flash of inspiration struck him. "Of course I'm not of the Shahni," he said. "I'm a citizen of Qasama, wounded while defending this city, who desperately needs help escaping."

One of the Djinn stirred but said nothing. Akim's expression remained unreadable. "Are you asking for our help?" he asked.

"This is ridiculous," Haafiz snapped before Daulo could answer. "Doctor, remove Daulo Sammon and take him to the departure area. You, Marid Akim, will deploy your Djinn as ordered."

"That may not be possible, Your Excellency," Akim said, his eyes still on Daulo. "Daulo Sammon is one of the leaders of his village. The provisions of the war act clearly state that warriors must assist such leaders wherever possible."

"When it does not interfere with other duties," Haafiz said. "Don't quote the law to me, Marid Akim. I
wrote
the law."

Daulo had a second flicker of inspiration—"And if I come under that provision," he said, "it would seem to me that a Shahni of Qasama would be even more firmly under Djinni protection."

"I don't need their protection," Haafiz spat. "I've given them their orders, and they
will
obey them."

Abruptly, he stood up and leveled a finger at the young Djinni behind Akim. "You—Djinni Ghushtre—by order of the Shahni you're hereby promoted to Ifrit and given command of this unit. Escort Marid Miron Akim and Senior Advisor Moffren Omnathi to the staging area and prepare them and your Djinn for combat."

"Wait a moment," Daulo said, frowning as he focused on the deep age lines crisscrossing Omnathi's face. "Advisor
Omnathi
is to be part of the attack? Why?"

"Djinni, you've been given an order by a Shahni of Qasama," Haafiz said, ignoring Daulo's question. "You will carry it out."

Ghushtre hesitated, his eyes flicking uncertainly to the back of Akim's head—"What about me?" Daulo put in, trying one last time. "I'm a village leader. What about you, Shahni Haafiz?" He waved a hand behind him. "For that matter, what about the rest of the civilians at the departure area? They're city dwellers—once outside the wall they'll be helpless. Where will they go? How will they find food and shelter? They need an escort of trained warriors."

"We need no such escort," Haafiz scoffed, his eyes still on Ghushtre. "Travel supplies are available at the departure area, and there are straight and clear roads to Purma and the towns and villages around it."

"There are still the dangers of the forest," Daulo pressed.
"And
those of the invaders."

"Ifrit Ghushtre, I give you one final chance," Haafiz said, again ignoring Daulo. "Obey my order, or be executed where you stand for treason."

"There will be no executions," Akim said firmly. "Nor will there be any such charges against my Djinn. I am the Marid, and decisions of discipline are mine. All honor or shame is ultimately gathered to me."

Haafiz glared down at him. "And your decision, Marid of the Djinn?" he demanded.

Akim's eyes flicked down to Daulo's wheelchair. "Daulo Sammon, are you able to walk?"

"For short distances, yes," Daulo said. "But my strength and stamina aren't yet fully returned. I don't know how far I can go before they give way."

Akim grunted. "For now, stay in the wheelchair—you should be able to cross most of the city in it. Djinn, your first priority is to escort Shahni Haafiz and Village Leader Daulo Sammon to safety. Accordingly, you are ordered to remove your combat suits—"

"Miron Akim, I warn you—" Haafiz began.

"—and report to the departure area," Akim said, his voice deathly calm. "Collect what food and water is available and assure that the civilians and medical personnel are prepared for travel. Moffren Omnathi and I will follow in a moment with Shahni Haafiz."

"Marid Akim—"

"You have your orders, Djinn," Akim said. "Carry them out."

There were twenty civilians, including five women and three children, waiting in a tense atmosphere when Daulo, the doctor, and the six Djinn arrived at the departure point. Accompanying the group were two other doctors and three medical attendants. As Omnathi had said, there were plenty of changes of clothing available, and within two minutes the Djinn had stripped off their combat suits and transformed themselves into six more civilians.

Daulo had also changed into more appropriate travel clothing, and was helping one of the Djinni load water bottles into the small carrier bag beneath his wheelchair, when Akim, Omnathi, and Haafiz arrived. Akim looked tense, Omnathi seemed oddly calm, and Haafiz looked like an afternoon thunderstorm looming on the horizon waiting to explode in all its fury.

But at least he wasn't threatening anyone. At least not at the moment. In fact, he didn't seem inclined to say anything at all.

Ten minutes later, with two of the civilian-clothed Djinn in the lead and Haafiz glowering right behind them, the group filed up a long ramp and through a door out into the open sunshine.

Into a ruined city.

Daulo looked around, his heart sinking, as the doctor wheeled him along the silent streets. Omnathi had said the invaders were destroying Sollas, but Daulo had had no idea how deep and thorough that destruction had been.

The southern part of the city, the part their group was traveling through, was still relatively intact, though there were numerous cracks and ridges in the pavement. But as they passed the wide avenues leading northwest, Daulo could see mounds of rubble to the north where buildings had once stood. Further north, beyond the rubble, were places where there was nothing but gaping holes, the devastation half concealed by a haze of dust or smoke.

Occasionally, he heard one of the others in their group murmur something to a companion, most of the comments edged with sadness or shaking with anger. But mostly the only sounds were the shuffling of feet through gravel, the creaking of the wheelchair as it moved across the uneven terrain, and the crackle and thud of the distant and ongoing destruction.

Aside from themselves, the only living beings in view were the invaders.

From the way Omnathi had talked, Daulo had expected the Trofts to be standing right at the exit as the refugees emerged onto the street, stopping each in turn and checking them for weapons, contraband of whatever sort, and Djinni combat suits. To his mild surprise, the aliens instead kept a cautious distance, watching warily but never approaching closer than fifty meters as the little clump of humans made their way along the deserted streets.

From a tactical point of view it seemed dangerously careless. It also made Daulo wonder what the whole fuss back in the conference room had been about.

The refugees had covered about half the distance to the city's southwest gate when he found out. As the group rounded a corner, they abruptly found themselves surrounded by a double ring of Trofts. The aliens in the inner circle gave a single order. "Humans: halt."

The Trofts then proceeded to do a quick search of everyone, including taking brief but thorough looks beneath the men's robes and tunics. The outer ring stayed well back, their lasers trained on the humans, until the search was over. Then, as silently as they'd descended on the refugees, the aliens withdrew, returning to doorways, alleys, and the other places where they'd apparently been standing their unobtrusive watch.