Cobra Guardian

  The voice cut off. "Dad--?" Jody began.

  "Shh," Paul said, a darkness in his voice that Jody had never heard there before. She listened to the sounds of the forest and the sudden thundering of her own pulse.

  And then, drifting through the still air, she heard the distant, muffled crack of an explosion. Followed by another, and another, and another.

  She looked at Geoff's taut face, and at Freylan's pale one, and at her father's grim one . . . and slowly, it dawned on her that the unthinkable had happened. The Trofts had invaded Caelian.

  The Cobra Worlds were at war.

  Chapter Three

  Nissa was waiting when Lorne reached the gate at the end of the walkway. "Any ID on the ships yet?" he asked as he dropped into the seat beside her.

  "They're Trofts," she said tautly as she pulled back onto the deserted street and shoved her foot against the accelerator, sending the car leaping forward like a scalded leatherwing. "What else do we need to know?"

  "Whose demesne they're from, for starters," Lorne said, grabbing at the armrest for support and fastening the restraints across his chest and hips. "It might also be nice to know if anyone's been threatening us or is an unhappy customer or something."

  "I don't know anything about that," Nissa said, taking a corner dangerously fast. "Governor-General Chintawa said not to use the comm any more than I had to--he wanted to keep the system open for emergency use."

  She had pulled onto Cavendish Boulevard, the main thoroughfare leading into the central part of the city, when the western sky abruptly lit up with the red firefly glows of a hundred distant grav lifts. "Here they come," Lorne said, pointing.

  "Oh, God," Nissa breathed, her voice sounding half strangled. "What do we do?"

  "We keep going," he told her, peering past the girl's head and trying to gauge the ships' speed. Two minutes, he estimated, maybe three, and the armada would be right on top of them. He and Nissa should make it to the government section of the city by then, but probably not to the Dome itself. "Can you get any more speed out of this thing?" he asked.

  "I don't think so," Nissa said, leaning forward a little as she presumably pressed harder on the accelerator. There was no change in the car's speed that Lorne could detect. "Where are we going?" she asked.

  "The Dome, right?" Lorne countered. "That's where Chintawa told you to bring me."

  "Yes, but--" She flashed a look at him. "Aren't they going to the Dome, too?"

  "They're probably going everywhere in Capitalia," Lorne said grimly, ducking his head a little lower to try to get the best view out her window that he could from his angle. The ships were still coming in, but they were also spreading out, and he saw several of the ones in back drop precipitously out of sight below the skyline as they headed for landing points in the western parts of the city. "Where does this car live?"

  "What?" Nissa asked, sounding confused.

  "Is it usually parked in the main car park?" Lorne clarified. "Because there's a private tunnel connecting that to the Dome itself. Right?"

  "Yes, but I'm only a second assistant," she said. "I can't use it."

  "I don't think this is going to be a morning for arguing regulations," Lorne said. "If we can make it to the car park--"

  And with a sudden thundering roar, the leading edge of the Troft armada shot past above them.

  "Pull over!" Lorne snapped as the car bucked violently in the crosswind of the spacecrafts' slipstreams. An instant later he was thrown against the restraints as Nissa slammed on the brakes, fighting the car to a skidding halt beside the curb.

  Just as a tall, shadowy ship settled on its grav lifts into the center of the intersection two blocks directly ahead.

  "Out!" Lorne ordered, popping his restraints.

  "But--" Nissa protested, pointing at the Troft ship, towering over the shorter buildings around them.

  "I said out!" Lorne said, reaching over and releasing her restraints himself. Out the windshield he could see another, more compact set of grav lifts glowing their way out of the sky toward them, apparently aiming for a spot directly in front of the big warship. Pushing open his door, he got a grip on Nissa's arm and hauled her out of the car.

  "What are you doing?" she gasped, struggling in his grip. "Let me go--"

  Ignoring her protests, Lorne pushed her down into a crouched position against the side of the car. "Quiet," he muttered, looking cautiously over the hood. Ahead, the incoming grav lifts he'd seen resolved themselves into a small transport that was settling to the pavement about fifty meters in front of the looming Troft warship.

  "Great," he muttered under his breath. A troop carrier, undoubtedly. Another minute, and they would be up to their eyebrows in Troft soldiers. "We have to get to cover," he murmured to Nissa. "Any ideas?"

  "The car park's over there," she said. "Up there on the left."

  Lorne grimaced. Unfortunately, the structure she was pointing to was right beside the Troft warship, directly beneath one of the stubby wings sticking out from the ship's flank up near the crest.

  Wings that seemed curiously lumpy and decidedly non-aerodynamic, now that he focused on them. Frowning, he keyed in his vision enhancers' telescopic setting.

  And hissed between his teeth. The wings didn't look aerodynamic because they had absolutely nothing to do with the ship's flight characteristics. They were nothing more or less than the supports for a set of incredibly nasty-looking weapons clusters: pylon-mounted lasers and missile tubes both. "Forget the car park," he told Nissa, looking around them. Most of the nearby buildings were either retail businesses or office space for the myriad of support groups and hangers-on that always collected around governmental seats of power. At this hour, with dawn only now starting to break in the east, all those buildings would be unoccupied and locked down tight.

  But the four-story structure directly ahead of them on their right had the look of an apartment building. An upper-class one, too, if the stone facing and fancy balconies were anything to go by. If they could get in there before the soldiers appeared . . .

  Too late. Even as he looked back at the transport he saw the side loading hatches swing ponderously down.

  Only it wasn't a squad of Troft soldiers who swarmed out onto the deserted street.

  It was a pack of spine leopards.

  Beside him, Nissa gave a muffled gasp. "Are those--?"

  "They sure are," Lorne said grimly.

  And suddenly it was more urgent than ever that he and Nissa get off the streets. The spinies looked a little wobbly as they walked around, as if the trip in the transport had left them groggy or disoriented. But that wouldn't last long. The minute they caught human scent out here, they would be on the hunt.

  Nissa knew it, too. "You have to kill them," she said urgently, her voice trembling. "Before they get to us."

  Lorne gazed at the animals, his heart sinking. There were at least fifteen of the beasts out there, plus however many more might still be out of sight in the transport's hold. Did Nissa really think a single Cobra could take on that many all by himself?

  And then his stomach tightened as he finally got it. Of course no single Cobra was up to this kind of challenge. It would take a group of them, working together, to take down that many predators.

  Right in the shadow of the Trofts' heavy lasers and missiles.

  "You have to kill them," Nissa pleaded again.

  "Maybe later," Lorne said, shifting his eyes back to the apartment building. Earlier, before the transport had unloaded its cargo, the distance to the front door had looked reasonable. Now, with spinies roaming the streets, the trip was a lot more problematic.

  "What do you mean?" Nissa demanded, her voice starting to shake again. "You can't let them stay out here on the streets. You have to get rid of them."

  "Quiet," Lorne bit out, looking around. With the whole area deserted, any sudden movement on his and Nissa's part would instantly draw the attention of both the Trofts and the spinies. Movement was always noticeable, and in
this case movement would probably be fatal.

  Unless something else started moving first.

  "Are the keys still in the car?" he asked, peering in through the window.

  "No, I've got them," Nissa said, holding up a closed fist as she started to move toward the car door. "Can they get through the doors or windows?"

  "Probably," Lorne said. "Give me the keys, then find a place to duck down and don't move until I tell you."

  She turned bewildered eyes on him. "What? You want me to stay out here?"

  "Until I tell you," Lorne repeated, pushing her gently but firmly a meter back from the car. Prying the keys from her frozen fist, he climbed back into the car, stretching out on his stomach across the front seats. He fitted the keys into the starter and turned it on.

  "What are you doing?" Nissa called from behind him.

  "Hopefully, creating a diversion," Lorne told her, easing his head up to windshield height and turning the steering wheel toward the transport and the milling spinies. "You have anything I can use to hold down the accelerator?"

  "Like what?"

  "Never mind," Lorne said, prying up the floor mat and rolling it up as tightly as he could. He folded the slightly floppy cylinder over once and wedged it between the lower dashboard and the accelerator. It wouldn't stay in place very long, but with luck it would stay there long enough. Pressing his left hand down on the brake, he shifted the car into gear with his right. Then, setting his right hand against the inner edge of the driver's seat, he shoved hard on the seat, launching himself backward through the open door and simultaneously pulling his left hand off the brake.

  He'd hoped to move backward fast enough to make it out of the car before the vehicle picked up too much momentum. But he wasn't quite fast enough. The edge of the doorframe clipped him across his shoulder as the car leaped forward, sending a quick jolt of pain through the shoulder and upper arm and spinning him partway around. An instant later he was clear, the doorframe narrowly missing the side of his head as the car curved away from the curb, and he got his hands under him just in time as he slammed full length onto the hard pavement. The car straightened out of its sharp turn as the steering system's self-alignment kicked in, leaving it rushing more or less in the direction of the Troft transport.

  And for the next few seconds, the spinies grouped around the ship would have something more urgent to look at than a couple of distant humans. "Come on," Lorne muttered, pushing himself up and grabbing Nissa's arm. "That building right there," he added, nodding toward the apartment as he pulled her to her feet. "Keep low, and go."

  She was on the move before he'd even finished the sentence, with no need for the shove he'd planned to give her if she'd needed added encouragement. Lorne gave the car and the spinies one last look, then followed.

  They were halfway to their target building when the street lit up with a brilliant flash of blue light. Lorne twisted his head around as the sizzling thunderclap of the high-power laser blast slapped across his ears.

  Just in time to see the car he'd sent rolling down the street explode.

  Nissa shrieked something unintelligible, her reflexive yelp nearly drowned out by the crackling of flame from the burning car and the creaking thud as it twisted violently around and flipped over onto its side. Putting on a burst of speed, Lorne caught up with the girl, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her along with him, trying to reach safety before the Troft gunners in the ship out there raised their aim.

  They were five meters away when the door was abruptly flung open. "Come on!" someone shouted to them. Leaning into his stride, Lorne kicked full power to his leg servos, his skin tingling with heat from the blazing car and crawling with anticipation of the laser blast that would disintegrate him where he stood.

  And then they were there, charging through the open door and into an ornately decorated lobby. Lorne caught a glimpse of dozens of people in night-robes and slippers standing tensely around the darkened room--

  "Whoa!" a middle-aged man directly in front of them gasped, holding up his hands.

  Lorne tried to stop, but he had too little time and too much momentum. With his arm still around Nissa's waist he crashed full tilt into the older man, sending all three of them sprawling onto the thick carpet.

  "Sorry," Lorne said, scrambling to his feet and throwing a quick look over his shoulder. "Someone close that door. Lock it if you can."

  "You think a lock's going to keep them out?" someone demanded in a sort of moaning snarl.

  "Just do it," Lorne ordered. He watched long enough to make sure it was being done, then turned back and offered a hand each to Nissa and the man. "You okay?" he asked.

  "I think so," Nissa said in a shaky voice as she took Lorne's hand and let him help her to her feet.

  "I'm fine," the middle-aged man seconded, ignoring the proffered hand and getting up on his own. "Didn't expect you to be coming in so fast."

  "Didn't expect to find someone in our way," Lorne said. "Sorry."

  "It's okay," the man said, lowering his voice. "I'm just glad you got here at all."

  Lorne frowned. "Oh?"

  The other glanced around and lowered his voice still more. "My name's Poole," he said. "I'm an assistant to Senior Governor Tomo Treakness."

  Lorne felt his stomach tighten. Treakness, the single loudest and most virulent anti-Cobra voice in the entire Cobra Worlds Directorate. "I guess I need to work on my aim," he said.

  Poole frowned. "What?"

  "Never mind," Lorne said, feeling a flicker of embarrassment. No matter how Treakness treated the Cobras, a comment like that was uncalled for. "Is the governor aware of what's happened?"

  Poole frowned a little harder. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean does he know about that," Lorne said patiently, waving a hand in the direction of the Troft warships and the spine leopards.

  "Of course he knows," Poole said. "Why do you think you're here?"

  It was Lorne's turn to frown. "What?"

  "That's why Governor-General Chintawa called you," Poole said, as if it was obvious. "You've been assigned to escort Governor Treakness."

  "Escort him where?"

  "Where else?" Poole glanced at Nissa, then looked back at Lorne. "Out of the city."

  * * *

  Treakness's apartment, as befit the senior governor's exalted rank, was on the top floor, with a northern exposure that presumably gave him a panoramic view of the city center, Dome, and the distant mountains.

  At the moment, though, it was clear that his view was nowhere near the top of the governor's considerations. "About time," he snapped as he opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing the three of them inside with short, imperious movements. "What did you do, Poole, sit them down and discuss the weather?"

  "No, sir, of course not," Poole said hastily as he ducked his head in deference. "I brought them up as soon as they arrived."

  "So the delay is your fault?" Treakness demanded, shifting his eyes to Lorne. "Or hers?"

  "We got here as fast as anyone could have," Lorne said, returning the governor's glare. "But of course, at the time we were under the impression that we were urgently needed for serious duty."

  Treakness's eyes narrowed. "Meaning?"

  "Meaning we've just been invaded, and this is hardly the time for anyone to run whimpering away with his tail between his legs," Lorne said. "Particularly senior governmental officials."

  "I agree," Treakness said icily. "If you see anyone doing that, you're authorized to shoot him down."

  "Really," Lorne said. "Do you want a running start? Or do you want it right here?"

  Treakness threw a look at Poole. "I did tell them," the other said. "Just like you told me. I told them we were leaving the city."

  Treakness hissed between his teeth. "You are useless, Poole. You know that?" He turned back to Lorne. "Yes, we're leaving the city. No, we aren't running."

  "Well, that's clear," Lorne said sarcastically.

  "You don't need an explana
tion, Cobra Broom," Treakness ground out. "All you need to do is follow orders."

  "Great--except I don't really have any, do I?" Lorne countered. "I haven't heard word one about any of this from Chintawa."

  "And you're not going to any time soon, either," Treakness said heavily. "The whole comm system's down, either destroyed or jammed."

  "Cobra Broom!" Nissa snapped.

  Lorne turned. She was standing by one of the windows, gazing down at the street below, a look of horror on her face. "The other Cobras. They're here."

  Lorne felt his throat tighten. "Hell," he muttered, hurrying to her side.

  There were Cobras down there, all right. Five of them, all wearing the semidress uniforms of the Dome security force, working together in deadly efficiency as they lasered, stunned, and otherwise methodically worked their way through the spine leopards the Trofts had turned loose on the streets. Already five of the spinies were down, and Lorne's memory flickered with the all-too-familiar acrid odor of burned flesh and muscle and bone.

  "We have to warn them," Nissa breathed.

  "About what?" Treakness asked as he and Poole took up positions at the other side of the window. "They seem to be doing all right."

  "You don't get it," Lorne said darkly, his mind swirling with useless plans. The comms were being jammed, which probably meant the field radios were also useless, even if Lorne had had one with him. A warning flash through the window from his own laser? That would do nothing but distract and confuse them.

  And going down there would only get him killed along with them.

  "Don't get what?" Treakness demanded.

  "There!" Poole said, jabbing a rigid finger. "Look!"

  Lorne lifted his eyes from the carnage going on below them. All across the city, a dozen or more of the tall Troft warships could be seen across the skyline, the whole scene faintly lit by the reddish light from the east. Poole was pointing at one of the ships that had taken up position due west of the governmental center.

  And as Lorne watched, the reddish sheen on its hull was suddenly joined by a flicker of sharper blue light from somewhere beneath it.

  "They're using the spinies to draw out the Cobras," Lorne said, his voice distant in his ears. "And then they're killing them."