Timothy Zahn - Cobra 01 - Cobra Page 21

He woke to the impatient buzz of his alarm, and as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the answer popped into his mind. For a moment he lay still, his mind busy sorting out details and possibilities. Then, rolling out of bed, he snared his phone and got the operator. "Kennet MacDonald," he told it.

  The wait was unusually long; MacDonald must have still been asleep. "Yes; hello," his voice finally came.

  "It's Jonny, Ken. I know what Challinor's up to."

  "You do?" MacDonald was suddenly alert. "What?"

  "He's going to take over the Kerseage Mines."

  Another long pause. "Damn," MacDonald said at last. "That has to be it. Over half of Aventine's rare-earth elements alone come from there. All he'd have to do is use the mine's explosives cache to doomsday the shafts and entrances-Zhu would have to think long and hard about sending a massive force to evict him."

  "And the longer Zhu hesitates the weaker he looks," Jonny said, "and the more likely some of Challinor's 'neutral' Cobras will see him as the probable winner and shift sides. If enough do that, Zhu'll either have to capitulate or risk civil war."

  "Yeah. Damn. We've got to alert Capitalia, get them to send a force up there before Challinor makes his move."

  "Right. You want to call them or shall I?"

  "It'd be better if we were both on the line. Hang on; let's see if I remember how to do this-"

  There was a double click. "Ariel," the operator said.

  "The governor-general's office in Capitalia," MacDonald told it.

  "I'm sorry, but I am unable to complete the call."

  Jonny blinked. "Why not?"

  "I'm sorry, but I am unable to complete the call."

  "Do you suppose the satellite's out of whack?" Jonny suggested hopefully.

  "Not likely," MacDonald growled. "Operator: Syndic Powell Stuart's office in

  Rankin."

  "I'm sorry, but I am unable to complete the call."

  And Rankin wasn't far enough away to require the communication satellite. "So much for coincidence," Jonny said, feeling a knot forming in his stomach. "How did Challinor get to the phone computer so fast?"

  "He could have done this any time in the past few days," MacDonald grunted. "I doubt if anyone's needed to talk to Capitalia or Rankin lately; certainly not since the courier ship left."

  "Maybe that's why he sent Almo Pyre with notes instead of calling us from

  Thanksgiving," Jonny suggested, suddenly remembering. "Maybe all out-of-town contact's been halted."

  "Maybe. Listen, I don't like using this phone, all of a sudden. Let's meet at

  Chrys's shop in, say, half an hour."

  "Right. Half an hour."

  Jonny clicked off the phone, and for a moment he stared at the little box, wondering if anyone had been eavesdropping on the conversation. Unlikely... but if Challinor could fix the computer to block out-of-town calls, why not also set up something to monitor all in-town ones?

  Jumping out of bed, he began pulling on his clothes.

  One of Ariel's two fully qualified electronics technicians, Chrys shared a two-floor combination office/shop/storeroom near the roughly circular area in the center of town which was known, presumably for historical reasons, as the

  Square. Jonny got there early and waited nervously outside until Chrys and

  MacDonald arrived with the keys.

  "Let's get inside," MacDonald urged, glancing around at the handful of other people that had appeared on the streets as the village began its preparations for the new day. "Challinor may have hired a spy or two in town."

  Inside, Chrys turned on some lights and sank into her workbench chair, yawning prodigiously. "Okay, we're here," she said. "Now would you care to explain what we needed me to do here on five hours' sleep and ten minutes' notice?"

  "We're cut off from both Rankin and Capitalia," MacDonald told her. "Challinor's apparently jinxed the phone computer." He went on to describe Jonny's idea about the Kerseage Mines and their attempt to alert the authorities. "Besides the water route up the Chalk River, the only land routes to the Mines are the roads from Thanksgiving and Weald," he explained. "Challinor's in position to block both of them, and if he can control the river here at Ariel, the governor-general won't have any way to move in forces or equipment except by aircar."

  "Damn him," Chrys muttered, her eyes wide awake now and flashing sparks. "If he's fouled up all the long-distance circuits, it'll probably take a week to repair the damage."

  "Well, that answers my first question," MacDonald said grimly. "Next question: can you build a transmitter of any kind here that can bypass the operator entirely and run a signal to Capitalia via the satellite?"

  "In theory, sure. In practice-" She shrugged. "I haven't built a high-frequency focused-beam transmitter since my first year at school. It would take at least two or three days' work, even assuming I've got all the necessary equipment."

  "Can you use some of your spare telephone modules?" Jonny suggested. "That should at least save you some assembly time."

  "Provided I don't overlap one of the regular frequencies and trigger a squelch reaction from the phone computer, yes," she nodded. "Readjusting built-in freq settings may take just as long as building from scratch, but it's worth a try."

  "Good. Get to work." MacDonald turned to Jonny. "Even if Challinor didn't set up a flag to let him know when anyone tries to call Capitalia, we should assume he'll be moving against us soon. We'll need to alert Mayor Tyler and organize whatever we can in the way of resistance."

  "Which is basically you and me," Jonny said.

  "Plus those half-dozen pellet guns Chrys mentioned last night." He saw Jonny's expression and shrugged uncomfortably. "I know-living clay pigeons. But you know as well as I do that our nanocomputers react more slowly when faced with two or more simultaneous threats. It might just give us the edge we'll need."

  "Maybe." All the ghosts of Adirondack were rising behind Jonny's eyes. Civilians getting killed in cross-fires... "What would we be doing, trying to guard the road from Thanksgiving?"

  MacDonald shook his head. "There's no way we can keep them out-they can abandon the road whenever they please if they don't mind having to kill a spine leopard or two on the way into town and don't need to bring in any heavy equipment. No, the best we can hope for is to hold this building until Chrys can finish a transmitter that'll bring help from Capitalia."

  "Maybe we should try the innocent approach, too," Chrys suggested, looking up from the book of circuit diagrams she'd been paging through. "As long as they haven't actually invaded yet, why don't we have someone-Dad, for instance-try to drive through Thanksgiving to Sangraal and call Capitalia from there?"

  "I doubt if Challinor's letting any traffic travel east from here," MacDonald said, "but it's worth a try. You think your dad would be willing?"

  "Sure," she reached for her phone... hesitated. "Maybe I'd better just ask him to come over and then explain things once he gets here. Challinor may have put a monitor in the system."

  The call took half a minute; Eldjarn asked no questions and said he'd be there right away. As Chrys broke the connection MacDonald started for the door. "I'm going to find the mayor," he said over his shoulder. "Jonny, you stay here-just in case. I'll be back as soon as I can."

  Eldjarn had come and gone and Chrys had been working for an hour and a half when they heard the shot.

  "What was that?" Chrys asked, looking up from her breadboard.

  "Pellet gun," Jonny snapped, already moving toward the door. "You'd better stay here while I-"

  "Forget it," she said, setting her solderer down carefully and racing after him.

  "Ken's out there!"

  There was no second shot, but even so they had no problem locating the scene of the trouble. Already thirty or more people had gathered around the edge of the

  Square; more, like Jonny and Chrys, were hurrying in that direction. Off to the side, at one corner of the building housing the mayor's office, lay a crumpled figure. Kneeling over him
was MacDonald.

  "Halt!" an authoritative voice barked, as Jonny and Chrys pushed through the clump of spectators and headed for MacDonald. "Stay away from him."

  Jonny glanced at the speaker without slowing. "The hell with you, L'est," he said. "The man's hurt!"

  The laser blast Jonny had half expected to take in the back didn't come, and they reached MacDonald without further incident. "What can we do?" he asked as they dropped to their knees beside him. The other Cobra, Jonny saw now, was pumping rhythmically on the injured man's sternum with the heel of his hand.

  "Ventilate him," MacDonald snapped; but Chrys had anticipated the order and was already beginning mouth-to-mouth. Jonny opened the charred shirt gingerly, wincing as he saw the location of the burn. "What happened?"

  "Challinor got here about fifteen minutes ago and told Mayor Tyler they were taking over," MacDonald said tightly. "We weren't in any kind of defense posture yet, but Insley tried to take a shot at him anyway." He swore viciously.

  "Challinor got out of the way and behind cover. There wasn't any reason to shoot to kill-but L'est apparently felt we needed an object lesson."

  Jonny looked over MacDonald's shoulder. L'est was still standing near the center of the Square, watching them. Glancing around, he noticed for the first time that four more Cobras were also present, spaced more or less evenly around that end of the Square: the two men who besides L'est had been at Challinor's the night before, Challinor himself, and-"Sandy Taber's joined them," he said.

  MacDonald grunted. "Chrys?" he asked.

  She moved her face away from Insley's and shook her head. "There's no pulse in the carotid artery," she said gently. "Hasn't been since we got here. I'm sorry,

  Ken."

  For a long moment MacDonald looked at her, his hands still in position on the dead man's chest. Then, slowly, he stood up and turned back toward the Square, his face like a thundercloud sculpted from stone. "Keep her clear, Jonny," he murmured, and started walking toward L'est.

  The action was so casual that he was four steps away before Jonny understood exactly what the Cobra was planning. Simultaneously, a hissing intake of air behind him told him Chrys also had suddenly realized what was going to happen.

  "Ken!" she blurted, leaping to her feet.

  Jonny was faster, standing up and grabbing her in an unbreakable grip before she could get past him. "Stay here," he whispered urgently into her ear. "You can't do anything for him out there."

  "Jonny, you have to stop him!" she moaned as she struggled against him. "They'll kill him!"

  For Jonny, it was the hardest decision he'd ever made in his life. Every instinct screamed at him to step into the Square and begin shooting, to try and knock out one or more of the Cobras waiting silently in their circle. To him it was obvious that Insley's death had been a deliberate effort on L'est's part to provoke precisely this reaction; to goad MacDonald into a confrontation where all the numerical and tactical advantages were theirs. But equally obvious was the fact that there was nothing he could to change the coming battle's outcome.

  At five-to-two odds he and MacDonald together would die just as surely as

  MacDonald alone... and with both of their Cobra defenders gone, the people of

  Ariel would have no way at all to fight back against Challinor's fledgling warlords. Even more than it had been the previous night, it was clear where his duty lay.

  And so he clung tightly to Chrys and watched as they killed his friend.

  It was a short battle. Even burning with rage, MacDonald had enough sense not to simply come to a halt and try to gun L'est down. Halfway through one of his strides he abruptly let his right leg collapse beneath him, dropping straight down onto the ground. Simultaneously, his arms snapped up, fingertip lasers sending fire to both sides. Patrusky and Szintra, at the receiving ends of the two blasts, reacted instantly, twisting aside as their own nanocomputers responded with return fire. An instant later there were twin howls of pain as the renegade Cobras' shots crossed the Square and hit each other... and from his prone position on the ground, MacDonald brought his left leg to bear on L'est.

  He never got a chance to fire. With his own lightning reflexes and servo-augmented muscles, L'est leaped up in a six-meter-high arc that took him almost directly over his opponent. MacDonald moved with desperate speed to get his hands up... but L'est's leg got to firing position first.

  The square lit up for an instant, and it was all over.

  Beside him, Jonny felt the tension drain out of Chrys's body. For a moment he thought she would either faint or become hysterical... but when she spoke her voice was quiet and firm. "Let me go to him, Jonny. Please."

  He hesitated, knowing what it would look like. "It'll be pretty bad-"

  "Please."

  They went together, Jonny with his arm still around her.

  It was, indeed, pretty bad. L'est's antiarmor blast had caught MacDonald high in the chest, destroying his heart and probably a good percentage of his lung tissue. His arms lay limply on the ground, indicating that the connections between nanocomputer and arm servos had also been destroyed, denying the Cobra even the satisfaction of one last dying shot.

  "Such a terrible waste."

  Jonny turned slowly, disengaging his arm from Chrys's shoulders and taking a half step away from her. "Yes, it is, isn't it, Challinor?" he said to the man standing before him, a white-hot anger beginning to burn through his mind. "A shame he didn't try for you and your chief butcher instead of your two dupes."

  "He attacked first. You saw that-you all saw that," Challinor added, raising his voice for the benefit of the stunned crowd. "Cee-three L'est was protecting you, as is his duty."

  All the possible responses collided deep in Jonny's throat; what came out was an animalistic growl. Challinor regarded him thoughtfully. "I'm sorry about your friend-truly I am," he said quietly. "But we can't allow opposition to our plan.

  We're going to remake Aventine, Moreau; and the faster and stronger our first stroke, the more likely the governor-general will capitulate without unnecessary bloodshed."

  Taber came up to Challinor's side. "Szintra is dead," he reported, avoiding

  Jonny's eyes. "Patrusky's going to be out of action for a few days, but none of his burns are really dangerous."

  Challinor nodded. "I underestimated him rather badly," he mused. "I thought he was too angry to be thinking tactically. A dangerous man-I wish he'd been on our side."

  "I'm going to kill you, Challinor," Jonny ground out. "You set Ken up to be killed, and you're going to die for that."

  Challinor didn't move, but his gaze tightened slightly. "You're welcome to try," he said softly. "But you can't stop us. L'est will carry on in my place if I die; would you rather he be in charge? And don't expect you'll get all of us.

  MacDonald was lucky to do as much damage as he did."

  Jonny didn't reply. Like a surfer on a wave, his tactical sense was riding the crest of his rage, calculating odds and possibilities with abnormal speed and clarity. Challinor stood before him, Taber slightly to his left, L'est somewhere behind him. An imperceptible bending of the knees could let him jump high enough to deliver lethal head kicks to the two in front of him, especially if the attack were preceded by a numbing blast from his sonic. L'est was far out of the sonic's outdoor range, but if he was watching the crowd for signs of hostility

  Jonny might be able to get in the first shot there, too-

  "No!" Chrys's unexpected grip on his arm froze his thoughts in mid-stride.

  "Don't do it, Jonny. I've lost Ken already-I don't want to lose you, too."

  Jonny closed his eyes and took a deep, ragged breath. My duty to Ariel does not include throwing my life away in anger, he thought at the white heat within him... and slowly the bonfire cooled to more controllable embers.

  He opened his eyes. Challinor and Taber were watching him tensely. "Dr. Eldjarn had to go to Sangraal this morning," he told Challinor evenly. "You'll need to release our phone system
so that we can call him back."

  The two renegade Cobras relaxed fractionally. "No need," Challinor said. "He'll be back at home in a few minutes, if he's not there already. Our roadblock stopped him on the way out of Thanksgiving, of course. You really shouldn't have tried to get a message out like that-you left us no choice but to move in."

  There was nothing to say to that. Taking Chrys's arm, Jonny led her away.

  "His great-grandfather was the last of six MacDonald generations to hold commissions in the Fifty-First Highland Division on Earth-did you know that?"

  Jonny nodded silently. Chrys had been curled up on the couch, talking almost nonstop about MacDonald, since their arrival back at her home several hours previously. At first Jonny had been worried, wondering whether she was retreating into some sort of personal fantasy world. But it soon became apparent that it was simply her way of saying good-bye.