Cobra Slave-eARC (13 page)

“So they’ve teamed up?” Jin asked.

“To be honest, I’m not sure what their relationship is,” Chintawa admitted. “If there’s any relationship at all. Frankly, I’d be afraid to ask, lest it give one or both of them any ideas. So far I’ve been able to mostly outmaneuver them individually. I’m not so sure I could do so if they joined forces.”

Jin braced herself. “What’s happening with Lorne?”

“What do you mean?” Chintawa asked, frowning. “The last I heard, he was back on duty in DeVegas.”

Jin and Paul exchanged glances. “Are you sure?” Paul asked.

“I was,” Chintawa said, pulling out his comm and punching in a number. “Status check, please: Cobra Lorne Broom…yes…thank you.”

He keyed off. “Commandant Dreysler’s office confirms he’s in DeVegas,” he said, putting the comm away. “Were you expecting him to be elsewhere?”

“We were concerned,” Paul said. “Commodore Santores seems to have developed an unhealthy fascination with our family.”

“I see.” Chintawa shifted his eyes to Jin. “And the reason for this fascination?”

Jin hesitated. Should they tell Chintawa about the MindsEye? Would that help, or would it just make things worse? “You’d have to ask Santores that,” she said evasively.

“I may do that,” Chintawa said, eyeing her another moment before turning back to Paul. “Let me rephrase: is this fascination going to make it dangerous for me to let you out, or will you be safer in here?” He sniffed. “Or should I ask Santores that one, too?”

“Thanks for your concern, but I think we’ve had enough of the Dome’s hospitality for one day,” Paul said, standing up. “We’ll take our chances with Santores.”

“Fine.” Chintawa gave each of them a hard look. “But let me give you a warning. I’m not happy about the Dominion being here, and I’m even less happy about some of the changes Santores has been talking about. The last thing I need is someone rocking the boat. Especially someone from the Moreau or Broom families. Do I make myself clear?”

“Very clear,” Paul said. “Just remember that we’re not the only ones doing the rocking.”

“I know,” Chintawa said with a scowl. “And I’ll do my best to keep Gendreves on a legal leash. All I ask is that you don’t give her any additional ammunition.”

“We’ll try,” Jin said dryly. “Believe me.”

“Do more than just try.” Chintawa nodded toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go to the desk and I’ll walk you through the sign-out procedure.”

Between their own release forms and the slightly more complicated de-impoundment procedure, it was nearly an hour before they were finally back in their car, staring at the gateway leading from the car park back into the city.

“We should call Uncle Corwin and Aunt Thena and let them know we’re all right,” Jin said into the silence.

“Yes, we should,” Paul agreed. “And then?”

Jin stole a look at his profile. His expression was calm enough, but she could see the determination lurking beneath the surface. “What are you thinking?” she countered.

He was silent another moment. “I was just wondering,” he said slowly, “whether I should just march into Santores’s office and offer to go under this damn MindsEye contraption myself.”

“Absolutely not,” Jin said firmly. “I don’t care how they spin it—the thing doesn’t sound even remotely safe.”

“Santores wouldn’t dare hurt me,” Paul assured her. “If he even looked like snatching away one of Nissa Gendreves’s prize fish she’d be on him like a rabid spine leopard. I was mostly thinking that if I let him look into my brain, he’ll find out I didn’t see the nav display on Warrior’s ship clearly enough to do him any good.”

“Fine; but what if you did see it?” Jin countered. “What if you can point him at Qasama? We can’t take that risk.”

“I’m almost positive I didn’t,” Paul said. “I know it’s a gamble. But if I can persuade him we’re no use to him, maybe he’ll leave us alone.”

“I doubt it,” Jin warned. “He strikes me as the vindictive type who’d go ahead and pull all the actionable stuff out of your brain, just for spite.”

“I thought he promised he wouldn’t do that.”

“He said he wouldn’t use anything they discovered to bring charges against Lorne,” Jin corrected. “That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t turn everything over to Gendreves. No, this thing could blow up in your face in any number of ways.”

“Then so be it,” Paul said firmly. “Better me than Lorne.”

And there it was at last. Jin gazed at him, his image going blurry as her eyes filled with tears. “It wasn’t your fault, Paul,” she said quietly, reaching over and taking his hand.

For a moment his hand resisted, staying rigid within the circle of her fingers. Then, almost unwillingly, the skin and muscle relaxed and softened, and his fingers wrapped around hers. “Of course it was my fault,” he said, the words dark with fear and anger and hopelessness. “I should have stopped him. I should have—” His hand squeezed hers tightly. “I should have done something.”

“There was nothing you could do,” Jin said, reaching over to enfold his hand now in both of hers. “You were trying to protect Merrick. Merrick was trying to protect you. You couldn’t both have what you wanted.”

“I know.” Paul took a deep breath, let it out in a slow, controlled sigh. “But that just makes it all the more important for me to protect the son I have left.”

Jin looked out through the gate at the bustling city beyond. Barely a week since the Dominion ships had arrived, and already Santores had insinuated his people into the highest levels of Cobra Worlds politics and was talking about changes. How much longer, she wondered, before he went ahead and took over everything?

“He wouldn’t stop with you,” she said, the words coming out with an edge that startled even herself. “Santores was highly disappointed that I didn’t give him an excuse to send me to his ship. He’s probably equally disappointed that whatever he was trying to do with Lorne has also failed.”

“He needs to get used to disappointment,” Paul murmured.

“He’s used to getting his own way. He’s going to keep going until he gets it here, too.”

“So what do you propose we do?”

Jin looked at their hands, still entwined. In unity there is strength, the old adage whispered through her mind.

Merrick was gone. Jody was out of Santores’s reach, at least temporarily. Corwin and Thena and the rest of her extended family were of no use to the Dominion. That left only her, Paul, and Lorne.

“He wants the three of us,” she said. “Fine. Let’s make it easy for him.”

She felt Paul’s eyes on her. “You mean we should put all his eggs in one basket?”

“I was thinking more of giving him a mouthful he’ll choke on,” Jin said grimly. “He needs to learn what it means to deal with Cobras.” She lifted her eyes to Paul’s. “And he definitely needs to learn what it means to take on the Broom family.”

“Okay.” Reaching down, Paul started the car. “You want to head out now, or shall we get a good night’s sleep first?”

“I drove through the night on Qasama,” she reminded him. “I can do it here, too.”

“Good enough,” Paul said, pulling out of the parking space. “We’ll grab some food on the way and just hit the road.”

He snorted. “And under the circumstances, I think we should wait to call Corwin and Thena until we reach Archway.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Merrick had worried about repercussions over the meal bars he’d stolen for the three slave children. To his relief, there weren’t any. In fact, as far as he could tell, it was possible the Trofts hadn’t even missed them.

More importantly, they also apparently hadn’t made any connection between the slaves and the monitor crewer’s unplanned on-duty nap. That had been the much more worrisome possibility, and ever since that night Merrick had made a habit of checking every Troft who passed by for signs of suspicion, anger, or even uneasiness.

It all added an extra layer of tension and sleeplessness on top of the rest of the stress Merrick was already putting up with. But it was worth it every time he caught a glimpse of one of the children furtively taking a bite from his or her precious private food supply after the inadequacy of their meager Troft-supplied meals. The expressions of gratitude and furtive curiosity on their parents’ faces added that much more to his private satisfaction.

Of course, the Trofts’ failure to react might not have been due to negligence. It might simply have been because they decided they didn’t have time for a proper investigation. Barely two days after Merrick’s midnight raid, considerably earlier than he’d expected, the ship put down on Anya’s planet.

“Welcome to Muninn,” she said quietly as the two of them stood off to one side, away from the rest of the thirty disembarking slaves, watching as the Trofts tossed out the bags containing the humans’ small collections of personal items. “Once a joyous and peaceful place, if the legends are to be believed.” She gestured across the landing field toward the dense-looking forest encircling the landing field about half a kilometer away. “Our village of Gangari is that direction, about forty kilometers distant.”

Merrick keyed in his telescopics. There was a road leading off the field in the direction she was pointing, paved with some sort of black stone or ceramic similar to the rocktop the Qasamans used on their own roads. It looked wide enough for two Aventinian-style passenger cars or about one-and-a-half cargo trucks. On either side of the road was a wide shoulder that looked like plowed ground. The forest vegetation ran right up to the shoulders’ edges, but without any visible penetration into that zone, which suggested that some kind of sterilization or poison was at work. In the distance, a line of rugged mountains rose above the trees. “Are they sending cars for us?” he asked.

She gave him a puzzled look. “Cars?”

“You said it was forty kilometers,” he reminded her. “We’re not going to walk the whole way, are we?”

“Of course,” she said, still looking puzzled. “Is that a problem?”

Merrick looked at the rest of the slaves, now busily sorting through the pile of bags the Trofts had thrown out. Standing behind the adults, fidgeting with impatience or nervousness, were two of the three children who’d been aboard the transport. “I was thinking of the children,” he said. “Forty kilometers is a long way for someone that young to walk.”

“It’s not so bad,” Anya assured him. “Only one of them will be coming with us. The other will be going there.” She pointed the opposite direction from the blackstone road, toward a considerably wider opening in the surrounding forest and a much smoother-looking roadway. “The town of Runatyr is only five kilometers distant. That’s where most of them will be going. It’s the largest settlement in this part of the world.”

Merrick felt his lip twist. A major town, maybe even a city. Whatever the Drims were up to, a high concentration of their slaves was the logical place for them to set up shop.

Only he and Anya weren’t going there. They were going to some little backwater village multiple kilometers away.

He shook his head in frustration. With every minute, Commander Ukuthi’s simple little espionage mission got better and better.

“Ours will be only an eight-hour journey,” Anya said. She paused. “With a child, perhaps ten,” she conceded.

Merrick looked at the sky. The sun was already past the midpoint, and Anya had told him earlier that there were twenty-six hours in Muninn’s day. No chance of making Gangari before nightfall. “Are there places nearby where we can camp?” he asked. “I assume we’ll wait for tomorrow to head out.”

“No, we’ll start as soon as we’re ready,” she said. “A journey of this length is better split into two parts.”

“What about nighttime predators? Or are there safe houses along the way?”

“There are no shelters. But none of the darktime animals will be of danger to us.”

“Mm.” Merrick wrinkled his nose doubtfully. Still, this was Anya’s world. She presumably knew what she was talking about. “Any idea how many are traveling with us?”

“Not many,” she said. “A moment, and it will become clear.”

A moment later, it was. As the grav lifts flared and the ship lifted back into the sky, the majority of the slaves shouldered their bags and headed toward the road to Runatyr, a murmur of quiet but relieved-sounding conversation moving along with them. The remaining five turned and headed toward Anya and Merrick.

That group, Merrick noted, was strangely silent.

No wonder, really. Gina was one of the group, the little girl who’d been fascinated by Merrick’s unusual hair color, as were her parents, who’d been even less friendly to the stranger who’d offered their daughter some of his dinner. Two other men strode along at their sides, big men with hard faces and muscles to match. One was a slightly darker-haired man whom Merrick had seen aboard ship but never talked to.

The other was Dyre Woodsplitter.

Merrick sighed. Terrific.

The feeling was clearly mutual. “What’s he doing here?” Dyre demanded as the group approached, his eyes on Merrick.

“He travels with us,” Anya said. She gestured to Gina and her parents. “Merrick Hopekeeper—”

“I don’t want him,” Dyre interrupted. “Let him go to Runatyr with the others.”

“No,” Anya said calmly. “Merrick Hopekeeper, I present Leif and Katla Streamjumper and their daughter Gina.”

Merrick bowed his head in the low nod of first-formal that Anya had coached him in. Leif and Katla returned the gesture, though neither seemed any happier about his presence than Dyre did. “This is Ville Dreamsinger,” Anya continued, gesturing to the other man.

“Merrick,” Ville repeated, giving the greeting nod. Unlike Dyre and the Streamjumpers, he seemed more intrigued than annoyed.

“And this is Dyre Woodsplitter,” Anya concluded. She hesitated just a fraction of a second. “My betrothed.”

Merrick felt his jaw drop. Her—?

“Her betrothed,” Dyre repeated, making the word both a warning and a challenge. “If we’re going, let’s go. Where are your possessions?”

“We have none,” Anya said. “You will take lead?”

“What do you mean, you have none?” Dyre demanded. “You have my pledge.”

“Your pledge was lost,” Anya said. “We waste sunlight—”

“Lost?” Dyre’s eyes shifted to Merrick and narrowed into a glare. “How did this happen?”