Cobra Alliance

  "Are you all right?" Akim asked sharply. "Jasmine Moreau?"

  The last thing Jin remembered before the darkness took her was Akim's hand closing around her arm.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The dishes from the evening meal had been cleared away, the ward lights had been dimmed for the night, and Merrick was starting to drift off to sleep when he heard the sound of measured footsteps coming his direction.

  He rolled over, grunting like a sleeping person might, and activated his optical enhancers. Six Djinn in full combat suits were marching quietly down the corridor toward him.

  Merrick turned his head slightly to give his enhancers an angle behind him. The chair Carsh Zoshak had been occupying for most of the day was vacant. Time for the changing of the guard?

  He looked back at the approaching Djinn, this time concentrating on their faces. The enhancers had limited detail sensitivity, but as near as Merrick could tell every man in the group was wearing the same grim and wary expression. And all eyes were definitely focused on him.

  He continued to play asleep as the Djinn arrived at his bed. One of them stepped to Merrick's side, waited until the other five had fanned out into a semicircle at the foot of the bed, then carefully touched Merrick's shoulder. "Merrick Moreau?" he murmured. "Djinni Moreau?"

  Merrick inhaled sharply, the way his brother Lorne always did when woken out of a deep sleep, and opened his eyes. "What is it?" he asked, blinking in feigned surprise at the group gathered around him. "Is something wrong?"

  "You are summoned," the Djinni beside him said. "Your clothing is in a drawer beneath the bed. Dress quickly."

  "Where are we going?" Merrick asked as he pulled the blanket aside and sat up, bracing himself for a fresh bout of the dizziness he'd experienced earlier in the day. But this time there was nothing. Maybe the healing drugs were finally out of his system. "Has something happened?"

  "Dress quickly" was the only reply.

  Two minutes later, they were all heading back between the rows of sleeping patients in the direction the Djinn had come from. His escort, Merrick noted uneasily, had fallen into step around him in a two-in-front, four-in-back formation, the same setup Cobra units typically used with civilian VIPs in spine-leopard-infested areas. It allowed the Cobras to focus maximum firepower to the front and sides, while protecting the group's rear with their own bodies.

  Only there weren't any spine leopards in the subcity. And Merrick was hardly a helpless civilian.

  Maybe that was the point.

  The corridors were quiet and mostly deserted, with only the pairs of guards at each corridor intersection as evidence that the citizenry hadn't simply picked up and left. Occasionally someone else would come by, either walking with the briskness of someone on an errand or else plodding along with the weariness of someone long overdue for sleep.

  The trip ended at a door guarded by two pairs of armed guards and another pair of Djinn. One of the guards opened the door as Merrick and his escort approached, revealing a darkened room beyond. Merrick keyed in his infrared enhancers as he walked inside and spotted three figures seated behind a long, curved table about ten meters away at the far end of the room. His rear guard filed in behind him, the door was closed, and a set of low-level lights came on.

  The figures Merrick had seen turned out to be three old men, dressed in what were obviously some kind of ceremonial robes. The two on the ends were men Merrick had never seen before, but the one in the middle was someone he recognized all too well.

  "Step forward, Merrick Moreau," Shahni Haafiz ordered, his voice stiff and unfriendly.

  Merrick glanced at the Djinn standing on either side of him. Their full attention was on Merrick, their expressions unreadable.

  Turning back to the Shahni, Merrick walked forward until he was a meter from the table. "If you wanted to apologize to me, Shahni Haafiz," he said, "a nice note would have been sufficient."

  "Hardly, enemy of Qasama," Haafiz growled. "You were summoned here for judgment."

  Merrick felt a chill run through him. "For which of my actions is judgment called?" he asked, flicking a look at each of the other two men. Their eyes were hard, their expressions as studiously neutral as those of the Djinn guard.

  "Disobeying the direct order of a Shahni of Qasama in time of war is by itself punishable by death," Haafiz said. "Other charges include—"

  "And the fact that I brought your family out alive instead of leaving them to die counts for nothing?" Merrick interrupted.

  "It does indeed count for something," Haafiz said darkly. "If you had let them be as you were ordered, dozens of the invaders would have died inside the Palace. Instead, your warning allowed most of them to escape."

  "And that would have been a fair trade for you?" Merrick countered. "A few enemy soldiers for your wife and family?"

  Haafiz didn't even flinch. "Yes," he said flatly.

  Again, Merrick looked at the other two Shahni. Again, there was nothing there but cold detachment. They meant it, he realized with a shiver. All three of them.

  What kind of soulless people were these, anyway?

  "In that case, I must offer my apologies," Merrick said, not quite managing to filter all the contempt out of his tone. "I obviously misunderstood the relationship of Qasama's rulers to Qasama's people."

  "I have not finished," Haafiz said, ignoring both the comment and the underlying sarcasm. "Other charges include putting Qasaman citizens unnecessarily at risk, forcing us to permanently seal away at least two entrances to the subcity, and forcing us to demonstrate the window booby-trap system to the enemy."

  Merrick frowned. "What booby-trap system? I didn't break any windows."

  One of the other Shahni leaned toward Haafiz and murmured something, and Merrick activated his audio enhancements. "—against the other one, the female," the other was saying.

  "No matter," Haafiz murmured back. "They act in concert. Their crimes are thus shared."

  The other Shahni nodded and straightened up again, and Merrick notched down his enhancements, feeling a frown creasing his forehead. Clearly, they'd been talking about his mother and something she must have done during her own escape from the airfield tower.

  Which led immediately to a question that hadn't occurred to Merrick until just now: namely, why wasn't she here? Did Haafiz have a separate kangaroo court planned for her? Or was this just his ham-handed way of getting back at Merrick for the unforgivable sin of making him look foolish by getting his family out alive after Haafiz had declared that to be impossible?

  "For these actions, and the secondary effects stemming from them, you are hereby ordered into custody," Haafiz intoned. "Such custody will continue until the invaders are thrown off our world, or until you prove yourself trustworthy and of no further danger to the Qasaman people."

  "How do you suggest I do that?" Merrick asked, fighting back a sudden surge of anger. Even under the truncated rules of wartime courts-martial, this whole thing was a joke. "Or would I be wasting my time to even try? I get the feeling there's no proof of any sort that would satisfy you."

  "Of course there is," Haafiz said. "But what that proof will consist of, you must discover for yourself." He picked up a gavel from in front of him and lightly double-tapped it against the tabletop. "Sentence is passed. Guard: escort the prisoner to his cell."

  Merrick turned around as the six Djinn started toward him. He could take them, the thought flitted through his mind. He'd already proved that in front of Miron Akim and that first group of Djinn. A burst from his sonic, a quick ceiling flip to get behind Haafiz and the other Shahni, and he would have the leverage he needed to get out of this whole insane mess.

  He took a careful breath. Steady, he warned himself. Because Akim and the Djinn had seen that trick, and if there was one thing his mother had impressed on him it was that Qasamans learned fast. The Djinn would be ready for it this time. And if Haafiz's plan was to goad him into proving that he wasn't trustworthy, that would be the fastest way for Merr
ick to hand himself over on a silver platter.

  The group of Djinn stopped in front of Merrick, again positioned for a two/four arrangement. "Merrick Moreau?" the leader prompted, gesturing back to the door.

  Merrick looked back at Haafiz. "My mother and I are trustworthy, Shahni Haafiz," he said, keeping his voice calm and measured. "We're also the best weapon you have against the Trofts. Until you understand those two things, more of your people are going to die. Consider that when you start placing guilt."

  It was as good an exit line as any. Turning his back on the three old men, Merrick stalked toward the door.

  The cell block was several corridors away from the midnight court room, roughly the same distance as the recovery ward but in the opposite direction. The cell they ushered him into was about as bare-bones as possible: a windowless concrete-walled room, three meters square, equipped with a bolted-down bed, a sink/ toilet combination, and an overhead light which was currently giving off the same low, nighttime glow as he'd seen back in the recovery ward. The door was three-centimeter-thick metal, with a peephole at eye level and a narrow flap at the bottom, the latter presumably for delivering meals. "Nice décor," Merrick commented, glancing around the cell as he stepped inside. "I don't suppose you'd let me give my mother or Miron Akim a call and let them know where I am?"

  None of the Djinn bothered to answer. One of them swung the door closed, and there was a muted thunk as the lock engaged. Pressing his ear to the door, Merrick heard the footsteps fade away into the silence of the night.

  He held that pose for the next few minutes, his audio enhancements at full strength, trying to determine if he was all alone in the cell block or if there were other prisoners. But he heard nothing. He repeated the experiment at the room's walls and back, and then at the sink/toilet's plumbing. He was able to pick up a few sounds from the latter, but the noises were soft and unidentifiable.

  Finally, with nothing better to do, he went to the bed and lay down. The cell door, which would be an imposing barrier to the average prisoner, would probably collapse within minutes against a Cobra antiarmor laser. He could think of at least two other scenarios that would similarly leave him on the outside of the cell and his jailer or jailers on the inside.

  But he knew better than to try any of them. Chances were good that Haafiz had put him in here precisely in the hope of goading him into breaking out, thereby vindicating his own belief that the Cobras were a danger to the Qasamans.

  Of course, there was also the possibility that breaking out was the way to prove he wasn't a threat. If he broke out, then deliberately didn't harm anyone . . .

  But he'd already done that for Akim, and it obviously hadn't impressed Haafiz in the slightest. No, the grouchy Shahni had to be angling for something else.

  But what that something was, Merrick hadn't a clue.

  With a sigh, he closed his eyes. His dizziness hadn't returned, but that didn't mean he was completely recovered from the quick-healing regimen the Qasamans had put him through. A good night's sleep to flush the rest of the drugs out of his system, and maybe he would be better able to figure out what the hell the Qasamans wanted from him.

  Resting his forearm across his eyes to block out the last of the overhead light, he settled down to sleep.

  The attendant had just brought Fadil's breakfast when he spotted the Djinni Carsh Zoshak striding toward him along the ward corridor.

  Quickly, Fadil grabbed his spoon and dug into his breakfast stew, pretending to be engrossed in his meal. The last thing he wanted right now was to have to speak or even nod a greeting to a city dweller who didn't even try to hide his contempt for villagers like Fadil and his father. If he was lucky, the Djinni would be busy on some errand and would likewise pretend not to notice Fadil. Spooning up a mouthful of the thick stew, he shoved it into his mouth.

  "Fadil Sammon?"

  Fadil sighed. On the other hand, if he was lucky he wouldn't have ended up in the middle of an alien invasion in the first place. Lifting his gaze from his bowl, arranging a neutral expression across his face, he gave Zoshak the sign of respect. "Good morning, Djinni—"

  "Have you seen Merrick Moreau this morning?" Zoshak interrupted.

  Fadil suppressed a grimace. Apparently, Zoshak wasn't even going to bother with common courtesy. "Why would I have seen him?" he countered. "He and I are barely acquaintances."

  "He's missing," Zoshak said. "The nurse said he was transferred out of his ward in the middle of the night, but there was no destination point listed."

  "Again, why should this have anything to do with me?" Fadil countered.

  Zoshak grimaced. "My mistake," he said. "Forgive the interruption." He lowered his gaze briefly to Fadil's bowl. "Return to your meal," he added, and strode off.

  Fadil watched him go, a sourness tightening his stomach. But at least the other had made it short.

  "Fadil."

  Fadil turned his head. His father was lying motionless in bed, clearly still weak after his own medical ordeal. But behind the drooping lids his eyes were alert and accusing. "You bring dishonor upon our house," he said.

  "How?" Fadil demanded. He wasn't in the mood for this. "The man asked a question. I answered him."

  "And you don't care what might have happened to Merrick Moreau?"

  Beside him, out of his father's sight, Fadil curled his hand into a fist. He really wasn't in the mood for this. "Why should I be concerned?" he asked. "Merrick Moreau is about as non-helpless a person as I've ever met."

  "And you owe him nothing?"

  Fadil forced himself to meet his father's gaze. "No, I don't," he said flatly. "Neither do you."

  The elder Sammon made a sound that seemed half cough and half grunt. "His mother saved my life," he reminded Fadil.

  "And you in turn saved hers," Fadil said. "It seems to me that you and she are even."

  For another moment Daulo gazed at his son in silence. Then, with a twitch of his lip that might have been a grimace, he closed his eyes. A minute later, his chest had settled into the slow rhythm of sleep.

  With a sigh, Fadil turned back to his interrupted breakfast. But the stew no longer tasted as good as it had a minute ago.

  Blast Merrick Moreau, anyway. And blast Jasmine Moreau, and the Shahni, and the city dwellers, and the Trofts. And while he was at it, blast his father, too.

  His father was still sleeping when Fadil finished his breakfast. He set the tray aside, then carefully got to his feet. The attendants and nurses at his ward's main station should have records from all the other wards, as well as this one. Maybe the right questions, asked in the proper way, would give him some idea of what the city dwellers had done with Merrick Moreau.

  The other eleven Djinn in Zoshak's squad were already in their chairs when Zoshak arrived at the briefing room. So were the members of two other squads. So were the men of a full unit of regular Qasaman soldiers. Whatever was in the works, it was big.

  Miron Akim, standing on the low platform in the front, gave Zoshak a somewhat cool look as he slipped into his chair, but didn't say anything. Zoshak's squad leader, Akim's son Siraj, wasn't so restrained. "You're late," he muttered as Zoshak slipped into the empty seat beside him.

  "My apologies, Ifrit Akim," Zoshak said, bowing his head to the other. "I had an errand, and misjudged my time."

  "Misjudging time in the midst of war can be fatal," Siraj countered. "And not only to yourself. You need to—"

  "Enough," a voice said quietly from behind Zoshak.

  Zoshak turned, and felt his breath catch in his throat. Seated alone in the far back corner was Senior Advisor Moffren Omnathi. "The point has been made," Omnathi said in the same measured voice. "Marid Akim, you may begin."

  "Thank you, Advisor Omnathi," Akim said, bowing his head to Omnathi and shifting his attention back to the gathered Djinn. "The Shahni have selected a mission for you," he announced. "You will be attacking the invader sentry ship currently standing guard at the intersection of Barch and Romand Streets, wi
th the goal of neutralizing its external weaponry and thus permitting an attack force to overwhelm its forces and capture or destroy it."

  Zoshak nodded to himself as a map came up on the display behind Akim. The intersection was on the city's western side, a block north of the Freegate market area and far removed from the airfield tower or any other critical area. If the invaders suspected an attack on one of their ships, that particular one would be low on their list of possibilities.

  "In the aftermath of Plan Saikah, the invaders are undoubtedly feeling very safe," Akim continued, his dark eyes drifting across the assembled warriors. "We intend to shake that feeling of security."

  "Understood," Siraj said briskly. "Have you and the Shahni a plan?"

  "We do," Akim said. He touched a button, and a position/movement overlay appeared on top of the street map. "It will be a sundown attack, just as the market is closing and the customers are returning to their homes."

  Zoshak felt his stomach tighten. "So there will be civilians in the fire zone?" he asked.

  "There will be as few as possible," Akim assured him. "But some will necessarily have to be there. The Djinn will need to dress as civilians and mix with them in order to get within attack range of the ship and the ground troops guarding its base."

  "We'll do whatever we have to," Siraj said, throwing a warning look at Zoshak. "When is the attack to take place?"

  Akim seemed to brace himself. "Tonight."

  A murmur rippled across the room. "Tonight?" Siraj echoed carefully. "With less than a day to learn the plan and practice it?"

  "I regret that you weren't given earlier notice," Akim said. "But the Shahni deem it necessary to send this message as soon as possible."

  Though it won't be much of a message if we all end up slaughtered, Zoshak thought darkly. But he kept his mouth shut. His commander was annoyed enough with him as it was.

  And surely the Shahni had considered that possibility when they'd set the attack's timetable.

  "I will begin by detailing the plan," Akim went on. "After you've asked any questions, we'll adjourn to the arena for practice."