Cobra Guardian

  "Her name is Jasmine Moreau Broom," Lorne said stiffly. "Only family and friends get to call her Jin."

  "Whatever," Emile growled. "The point is that while you were stomping around the sewers this morning, the rest of us Cobras were setting up talking posts all across the city." He smiled again, or maybe it was more of a smirk. "And yes, we know all about you and Governor Treakness making for Crystal Lake."

  Lorne grimaced. "The white-haired man back in Wei Kei's," he said, nodding. "Yes, I assumed at the time he wasn't close enough to overhear us. But of course, I also assumed a Cobra would have come over and offered to help."

  "Those assumptions will get you every time," Emile said. "Interesting thing about it is that Chintawa hasn't said anything about Treakness being on any special missions."

  Lorne felt his throat tighten. Treakness had told him Chintawa had authorized this mission. But he'd never heard it from Chintawa himself. Was it possible Treakness had made the whole thing up? "Maybe Chintawa was worried that word of the mission would leak out," he said, keeping his voice casual. "You mentioned talking posts. What are they?"

  Emile rolled his eyes. "They're a set of top-floor windows where we sit with lights and tap out Dida code to each other," he said with exaggerated patience. "Surely your brother or father told you about Dida code."

  "They may have mentioned it," Lorne conceded, feeling like an idiot. Of course he'd heard of Dida code. It was a semi-secret system of dots and dashes that Cobras on Aventinian big-city duty were taught at the beginning of their tenure, a fallback method for maintaining short- and medium-distance communication if the comm system ever failed.

  Lorne's father presumably knew Dida, as did Lorne's brother Merrick, who'd been assigned to Capitalia two years ago. In fact, now that Lorne thought about it, he realized that Dida was probably what Merrick had been talking about way back then when he grumbled about the complexities of city duty. Lorne himself, with his own life and career still wrapped up in the expansion regions, had actually forgotten the system even existed. "Well, then, there's your answer," he told Emile. "Chintawa was afraid the Trofts would tap into your light show, so he didn't say anything."

  "The Trofts don't know Dida code," Emile scoffed. But his tone nevertheless sounded a little less truculent.

  "Doesn't mean they can't record what you send and decipher the messages later," Lorne pointed out.

  "I suppose," Emile said. "Kinda moot now, though. Where's Treakness?"

  "Why?" Lorne asked cautiously.

  "Why do you think?" Emile growled. "So we can take him back to the Dome and get the Trofts off our backs about our missing governor."

  Lorne stared at him. "You mean you're just going to hand him over to them?"

  "Of course," Emile said. "Face it, Broom, there's nothing he can do flailing around out here on his own. The Trofts want him, and they're going to keep giving the whole city grief until they get him."

  "Since when do we cave in to grief?" Lorne demanded. "What happened to the oaths we took as Cobras?"

  "You mean our oath to defend the people of Aventine?" Emile countered. "The people who are going to be dumped on just because some cowardly politician feels like running instead of sticking around to face the music like everyone else? Those people?"

  "Treakness isn't running," Lorne insisted. "He's on a mission."

  "Again, who says?" Emile asked.

  "Chintawa sent one of his aides to get me before the Trofts landed," Lorne said stubbornly. "Why would he do that if Treakness just made up this whole thing?"

  "How should I know?" Emile asked impatiently. "He could have had a hundred reasons for wanting you in the Dome when the balloon went up. You seriously think Treakness isn't smart enough to spot an opportunity when it falls into his lap and grab it with both hands? Come on, kid, use your head. He's using you, pure and simple. Now, where is he?"

  Lorne took a deep breath. "You're right, I don't know for sure what's going on," he said. "But I don't believe that Governor Treakness is lying to me. I also promised I'd do everything in my power to get him out of the city where he needs to go."

  Emile shook his head. "You still don't get it, do you? You can't get him out. That's the point." He waved his hand. "You see this safe zone? It's an island. A completely enclosed chunk of civilization in the middle of a spiny-infested city. The rest of the safe zones are exactly the same: a few fenced-in streets centered around one or two of their sentry ships, completely isolated from all the others. Even if you had a car, you couldn't drive from one to another."

  "What about the cars outside the safe zones?" Lorne suggested. "I could get Treakness out there and grab one of those."

  "And you don't think the Trofts will notice you driving around?" Emile scoffed. "You think that just because they've seeded the area with a few spinies that they're ignoring those areas? Hardly. They have armored troop carriers driving around the spiny zones, plus a line of fresh transports coming in from orbit all the time that have orders to survey the territory on their way down, plus a bunch of observation drones flying around the city and countryside watching for unauthorized movement."

  "Then I guess we'll just have to walk," Lorne said through clenched teeth.

  "Oh, right--that'll work," Emile said sarcastically. "Just be sure the spinies leave enough of Treakness for the Trofts to identify afterward. Come on, we're wasting time."

  "You're right, we are," Lorne agreed, bracing himself. "I'm leaving. You can help me or stay out of my way."

  Emile barked a short laugh. "You really think--?"

  And dropped to the floor like a heavy sack as the high-voltage current from Lorne's stunner arced through him.

  For a long moment Lorne gazed down at the unconscious Cobra, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. If Emile was right--if Treakness had lied to Lorne about his mission and his instructions coming from Governor-General Chintawa . . .

  But it was too late to worry about that now. Way too late. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he slipped out of the room.

  He'd told Treakness he would rendezvous with the group six blocks west of the Hendrezon's building. Given the faster time Lorne had been making as he ran along the rooftops, he expected to be the first one to arrive. To his mild surprise, he reached the corner to find Poole and the elder Koshevski already waiting, the latter looking darkly around, the former with his arms crossed over his chest, his fingers tapping nervously against his rib cage.

  "There you are," Poole said, sagging with relief as Lorne slipped through the crowd and came up to them. "I was afraid you'd been--I mean, after you left us, and then we got here--"

  "Yeah, all of two minutes ago," Koshevski interrupted, eyeing Lorne. "Got to say, though, that was a damn good show."

  "Glad you liked it," Lorne said, looking around. "Where are the others?"

  "They stopped at one of the health stores down the block," Poole said, jerking his head back in the direction they'd come from. "Nissa thought some--" he lowered his voice conspiratorially "--some disguise materials were probably called for."

  "Good idea," Lorne agreed, turning to Koshevski. "What's happening with your brother and his family?"

  "They've got some friends down the street," Koshevski said. "They should be able to stay with them, at least for a while."

  "What about you?" Lorne asked.

  Koshevski shrugged. "I'll probably stick around. There's nothing back at my place I can't get here. Been wanting to spend more time with my nieces and nephew anyway." His lip twitched. "But first we've got to get you to Ridgeline."

  Lorne frowned. After the man in the crowd who'd tried to sell him to the Trofts, and Emile's flat-out refusal to lift a finger to help them, he'd sort of expected Koshevski to bail on them, too. "You're still up for that?"

  "A deal's a deal," Koshevski said with another shrug. "There's an access point behind an arbor bench a block over that we should be able to use without being spotted. Soon as the others get here, we'll head over and you can take a look." r />
  "Sounds good." Lorne nodded toward an exotic foods shop across the street. "Let's go look around in there while we wait. We're a bit conspicuous just standing around."

  Most of the more popular foodstuffs had already been cleared off the shelves, with only a few of the more acquired-taste items remaining. Lorne kept an eye on the rendezvous corner as they browsed, and when he spotted Nissa and Treakness approaching he bought a package of cured Esquiline trihorn meat and ushered the others back outside.

  The two groups reached the corner at the same time. "I see you're still alive," Treakness greeted Lorne shortly. "Good."

  "Thanks for your concern," Lorne said stiffly. "You're looking interesting yourself."

  Treakness snorted. "I look like a fool," he said bluntly, patting gingerly at the streaks of color Nissa had run through his hair. "Hair coloring, cheekbone highlighting, and whatever this stuff is she's got all over my face."

  "It's tan-effect," Nissa said. "It darkens your skin."

  "And it itches like crazy," Treakness growled. "We have a plan?"

  "Access point's half block that way," Koshevski said, nodding in that direction. "We're ready when you are."

  "Excellent," Treakness said. Apparently, the thought that Koshevski might quit now that he'd gotten what he wanted had never occurred to him. "Lead on."

  The access point was as Koshevski had described, tucked away behind the bench and spread of miniature trees that formed the small pedestrian arbor area, and just inside the Trofts' fence. "This should do nicely," Treakness said, looking around as the group gathered together around the cover. "Whenever you're ready, Broom."

  "In a second," Lorne said, keying in his enhancers and giving the sky above them a quick but careful scan. "I'm told the Trofts have observation drones flying over the city."

  "Where'd you hear that?" Koshevski asked.

  "From someone who should know," Lorne said. If the Trofts had any drones up there at the moment, though, they were too high for him to spot. "Get ready," he said, getting a grip on the access cover. "Koshevski, you're first."

  A minute later, with their sequential disappearance having apparently gone unnoticed by the milling crowds, Lorne carefully settled the cover back into place above his head and made the dark descent into the drainage system. "Everyone okay?" he asked quietly when he reached the bottom.

  "Everyone except my back," Treakness said sourly. "It's already aching in anticipation. You people don't really walk these conduits all the time, do you?"

  "No, we have rolling platforms and kneepads," Koshevski said. "But that stuff is all kept in the substations, and there aren't any anywhere along our way."

  "Of course there aren't," Treakness growled. "Fine. Let's get on with it."

  "I need a quick word with Governor Treakness first," Lorne said. "The rest of you go on ahead. We'll catch up."

  "Okay, but don't get too far behind," Koshevski warned. "There are a couple of tricky spots a few blocks ahead."

  "We won't be that long," Lorne said. "Get going."

  He and Treakness stood together in silence until the sound of the others' footsteps had faded away into the faint murmur of the crowds going by overhead. "So?" Treakness asked.

  "The man who told me about the Trofts' observation drones was another Cobra," Lorne told him. "He also said--"

  "You met another Cobra up there?" Treakness interrupted. "Why in hell's name didn't you invite him to join us? We can use all the help we can get."

  "I did invite him," Lorne said. "He said Governor-General Chintawa never said a thing about this special mission of yours. To anyone."

  For a long moment Treakness didn't answer. Lorne keyed in his light-amps, to find that the governor's expression was as unreadable as his silence. "In other words, he thinks I lied to you," Treakness said at last. "What do you think?"

  "I'd like to think I can trust you," Lorne said. "But to be honest, I'm not sure I can. I've been thinking about this thing, and parts of it just don't add up."

  "Such as?"

  "For starters, if this mission is really so vital, why am I the only Cobra on the job?" Lorne asked. "There were other Cobras in your neighborhood--we saw them get slaughtered by the Trofts right after I arrived. And as you said, we could certainly use more help. So why weren't they brought in?"

  "Probably because by the time Chintawa was ready to start calling them the Trofts had the comm system shut down," Treakness said.

  "He got through to me just fine," Lorne pointed out.

  "Because you were the first one on his list," Treakness said. "Or rather, Ms. Gendreves was, with instructions to go get you. By the time he finished talking to the Tlossies at Creeksedge and a few other people, the Trofts had crashed the system."

  "Which was apparently replaced fairly quickly by a Dida-code flash setup," Lorne said. "So even if he couldn't get more Cobras to us at the beginning, he could have sent some after us."

  "Yes, he could," Treakness agreed. "And no, I don't know why he didn't. All I can suggest is that he was afraid letting more people into the secret than he had to would increase the risk of word leaking out to the Trofts."

  Which was essentially the same excuse that Lorne himself had offered to Emile. It didn't sound nearly as convincing coming out of Treakness's mouth. "That's one theory," he said. "You also told me Chintawa insisted I accompany you, which is supposedly why you waited until I showed up before heading to Creeksedge. But if the Tlossies are really on our side, why didn't you ask them to send a shuttle to pick up both of us? If the invaders aren't bothering their freighter, they probably wouldn't have shot down one of their shuttles, either."

  "An interesting question," Treakness said. "Let me ask you one in return. Would you be performing this same cross-examination if, say, you'd been asked to escort Governor Ellen Hoffman to Creeksedge instead of me?"

  "Under the same circumstances?" Lorne asked. "Of course."

  "Really?" Treakness asked. "Because I'm sure you're as familiar with Governor Hoffman's pro-Cobra stance as well as you are with my own somewhat less enthusiastic position."

  "That has nothing to do with the case," Lorne said.

  "I think it does," Treakness said. "In your mind, my position on the Cobras automatically colors every other perception you have of me, including your opinion of my integrity and my honesty. So I ask again: would you automatically assume Hoffman would lie to save her own skin, the way you're thinking I would?"

  "I'm not accusing you of lying," Lorne insisted. But down deep, he realized he couldn't dismiss Treakness's accusations nearly that easily.

  Because the governor was right. If it were Ellen Hoffman standing here, he would indeed have been more inclined to accept her story about a secret mission. He certainly would have been more willing to risk his life for her.

  And then, Lorne felt his breath catch in his throat as a horrible suspicion flooded in on him. "Poole," he murmured.

  "What?" Treakness asked, frowning.

  "Poole," Lorne said, activating his infrared and gazing intently at the heat pattern of Treakness's face. If the governor lied now, he should be able to spot it. "It suddenly occurred to me why he's here."

  Treakness's heat pattern darkened, subtly but noticeably. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

  "I'm talking about you and traveler's insurance," Lorne said. "That's the real reason he's with us, isn't it?"

  Treakness's pattern darkened even more. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said stiffly.

  "I think you do," Lorne said, the sheer arrogance of the man turning his stomach. "You know how most Cobras feel about you and your policies. You know that any of us would accept an order to protect you, but that not many of us would put much enthusiasm into the job."

  He waved down the conduit. "So you invited Poole along, a nice convenient innocent bystander, to guarantee I'd put some real effort into getting you out." He felt his eyes narrow as another thought occurred to him. "Is that why Nissa's along, too? Did Chint
awa send her to get me instead of asking the Tlossies to pick us up so that I'd have one more innocent bystander to play guardian to?"

  "The Tlossies wouldn't leave the spaceport," Treakness said, some of the fresh heat fading from his face. "As to the rest, you can believe whatever you want as long as you obey your orders."

  Lorne snorted. "So that's the bottom line?"

  "Obeying orders?" Treakness asked. "Yes. And if you're worth the Cobra name, you'll do the same."

  With a supreme effort, Lorne choked back his anger and contempt. "As you wish, Governor," he said, pitching his voice parade-ground formal. "Don't worry, I'll get you to the spaceport."

  Lorne moved a step closer to the other. "But understand that this isn't over," he added softly. "Once this is all over, however long it takes, I will petition the Directorate for a full investigation of everything that's happened here today."

  "That's your right as a citizen of Aventine," Treakness said, his own voice going as neutral as Lorne's. "Was there anything else?"

  The man was cool, all right. Way too cool for Lorne's taste. "No, I think we're done," he said. "For now."

  "Then I suggest we catch up with the others," Treakness said, gesturing toward the conduit. "It would be rather embarrassing to admit at the trial that you lost half our party while you were busy browbeating me with worthless questions."

  "I suppose it would," Lorne agreed, gesturing in turn. "After you."

  * * *

  If any of the party had hoped this leg of their underground journey would be easier than the previous one, they were quickly disillusioned. The conduits on the west side of Capitalia were every bit as cramped, slimy, and uncomfortable as the ones closer to the central city. That meant there were just as many slips as before, and the same number of stops along the way to relieve the strain on backs and knees.

  Still, Lorne noticed there was less groaning and fewer under-the-breath complaints than there had been earlier. Possibly the brief aboveground break had given everyone's joints and muscles sufficient recovery time to ease the discomfort.