CHAPTER THREE
They had just taken the ramp onto Cavendish Boulevard and were heading for central Capitalia when Lorne first realized they’d picked up a tail. “Dad?” he said into his parents’ quiet front-seat conversation. “Don’t look now, but we’re being followed.”
“I know,” his father said calmly. “The blue Savron two cars back with the overheating left headlight.”
Lorne keyed his infrareds and eased a look over his shoulder. Sure enough, the Savron back there was showing extra heat around its left headlight.
“Probably a couple of Gendreves’s people making sure I don’t leave town,” Paul added. “Just ignore them.”
“I’d love to,” Lorne said. “Problem is, that’s not the car I was talking about.”
Paul half turned, his forehead wrinkled in a frown. “It isn’t?”
“Nope,” Lorne said. “Mine’s three cars back from it, a green Max-7.”
“You’re sure they’re following us, too?” Jin asked.
“Positive,” Lorne told her. “He was parked around the corner when we first got to the Island. He, or they,” he amended. “I never saw who was in it.”
“Perhaps we should try to get another look,” Paul said, his voice going a little darker. “How’s your slingfrog technique these days?”
“Haven’t done one in years,” Lorne said, frowning as he looked around them. Out here in the open in the middle of a wide street, a slingfrog would be next to useless.
An instant later he grabbed at his restraints as his father abruptly veered off the boulevard onto an exit ramp. “Where are we going?” he managed.
“Aunt Thena’s old neighborhood,” Jin said. “She’s been driving through the area every time she goes to the Dome for the past twenty years. I’m guessing I know it a lot better than either of our friends back there.”
“Both of whom got off Cavendish along with us,” Paul reported, studying the image in the mirror. “They’re keeping their distance, but we’ve still got a parade going. Where do you want to do this?”
“Three blocks straight, then take a right,” Jin said, pointing ahead. “The hairdressers’ at that corner has a deep setback doorway—Lorne can duck in there after he jumps out.”
“Okay.” Paul looked over his shoulder at Lorne. “You game for this?”
“Sure,” Lorne said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. The slingfrog was one of the military tactics they’d practiced a few times back at the academy. While many of those techniques had been adaptable to the Cobras’ predator hunts, the slingfrog wasn’t one of them.
Still, the maneuver was pre-programmed into the nanocomputer nestled beneath his brain. As long as he keyed into it properly and let the computer and servos do their job, he should be all right.
“Almost there,” Jin called over the seat.
Unfastening his restraints, Lorne got a grip on the door release with his right hand and the edge of his mother’s seat with his left. Rolling onto his right hip, he bent his knees and braced both feet against the center storage console. “Ready.”
The soft click of the turn signal went on. Lorne took a deep breath. The car made a hard right around the corner—
And as the corner shop momentarily blocked the lines of sight from the pursuing vehicles, Lorne wrenched open the door and shoved it open, straightened his knees convulsively, and leaped out into the night.
The move would have been impossible for a normal human, fighting upstream against momentum and inertia as the car finished its turn. But the servos implanted in Lorne’s arms and legs had the strength, and the ceramic laminae made his bones strong enough to take the sudden stress. He shot out of the car in a shallow arc, the door edge nearly smashing into his shin as it slammed shut behind him. The angle of his jump had put him into a sideways position relative to the ground, but his nanocomputer was already on it, having added just the right amount of spin to his body as he pushed off the center console. Even as he reached the top of his arc and started down he found himself swiveling around, and by the time he landed on the walkway his feet were positioned to take the impact and turn him upright again.
The deep doorway his mother had described was ten meters straight ahead. Using the residual momentum of his jump, he sprinted into the shadowy alcove and braked to a halt, turning to face the opening and dropping into a crouch. As the sound of his parents’ car faded away, he heard the growing rumble of the first pursuing car. Keying his optical enhancers for light-amplification, he pressed against the side of the alcove and held his breath.
A second later, with a squeal of tires, the Savron with the bad headlight roared into view. There were two men in the front seat, he saw, with the passenger holding a set of night binoculars to his eyes. The engine roar changed pitch as the driver suddenly increased speed, and as the car disappeared past the other side of the alcove Lorne saw the passenger lower the binoculars.
And then they were gone. Lorne listened as their engine noise faded away, an eerie feeling creeping up his back.
Those weren’t just a couple of Nissa Gendreves’ warrant enforcers. They were Dominion Marines.
Had Nissa somehow persuaded Commodore Santores to take the treason investigation away from Chintawa? That could be good, or it could be very, very bad.
But there was no time to weigh the possibilities now. He’d had his look, and now he had to figure out what to do next.
Should he go into hiding somewhere? Or should he head back to the Dome on foot and play innocent if someone called him on the stunt he’d just pulled?
And someone would call him on it. The Marine with the binoculars had almost certainly spotted Lorne’s sudden disappearance. Their assumption might be that he’d merely ducked down in the seat, either to get something or just to mess with them. But that engine surge right at the end implied they were going to check it out anyway. Somewhere along the line they would pull his parents over, at which point they would discover that Lorne had indeed vanished.
If the Marines were following Paul and Jin, whether on orders from Nissa or Santores, that would probably be the end of it. They would most likely be annoyed by Lorne’s trick, as well as the fact that their surreptitious pursuit had been exposed. But there certainly weren’t any official charges they could bring.
But if they were following Lorne, someone was going to be very unhappy indeed.
He caught his breath, a sudden belated thought flooding in on him.
There had been two cars following them. Only one had continued the chase around the corner.
Where the hell was car number two?
Cursing his inattention, he keyed in his audio enhancements. The distant sounds of his parents’ and the Marines’ cars jumped in volume, along with the city’s other background noises. But there were no other engine sounds nearby. Had the car turned off somewhere else?
And then, he heard footsteps. Two sets, moving stealthily along the walkway.
Coming closer.
His right hand curled into stunner mode. Whoever was out there was about to take an unexpected nap. The footsteps were nearly to his doorway now…
“Lorne?”
Lorne felt the tension drain out of him, a combination of relief and annoyance taking its place as he straightened up. No Dominion Marines or legal annoyances this time—just Badger Werle, one of his teammates out in DeVegas province. He should have guessed that only another Cobra could have anticipated Lorne’s slingfrog maneuver. “Here, Badj,” he called back, and walked around the doorway wall.
It had only been a few weeks since Lorne had last seen Werle. But with all that had happened it felt more like a lifetime. It was therefore something of an odd shock to see that the man looked pretty much exactly the way Lorne remembered him.
That wasn’t the case with the second man. To Lorne’s shocked surprise, Dillon de Portola now had a long, ragged laser burn scar across his right cheek and up along the side of his head. “Hey, Dill,” he said. Even to himself his voice sounded strained and forced.
But if de Portola noticed the sudden stress, he ignored it. “Hey, Lorne,” he replied calmly. He tapped the backs of his fingers against Werle’s shoulder. “I told you he’d pulled a slingfrog.”
“Yes, you did,” Werle agreed, rolling his eyes. It was a game the two of them had been playing for years: de Portola pointing out a bit of his own brilliance, and Werle pretending that it irritated him. “What’s going on?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Lorne said. “How come you two were following us?”
“Mainly because they were,” Werle said, nodding down the street. “Dill and I came to your great uncle’s place looking for you and spotted them skulking around. We talked it over and decided we were intrigued, so we hunkered down out of their sight and waited to see what they were up to. When they took off after you—” He shrugged. “We decided to tag along.”
“So what does the Dominion want with you?” de Portola asked. “Ishikuma said you finished your testimony this afternoon.”
“Maybe Ishikuma was wrong,” Lorne said.
“Cobra commandants are never wrong,” de Portola said. “You know that.”
“He reminds us about it all the time,” Werle added. “He’s especially never wrong when his information comes from Chintawa himself. That’s actually why we’re here—Ishikuma send us to haul your butt back to Archway so you can, quote, do some actual Cobra work for a change, unquote.”
“Ah,” Lorne said, nodding. “Yes, I’m afraid I’ve been loafing lately.”
“And don’t think we haven’t noticed,” Werle said severely. “Out playing with Trofts when there are spine leopards that need killing.”
“Luckily, Ishikuma sent us by aircar, so you won’t have to worry about how to fill the long hours of a land drive.” De Portola raised his eyebrows. “Unless there’s some reason you want to stay here a few more days. We can always say we couldn’t find you.”
Lorne looked around. He’d grown up in Capitalia, and there were plenty of things he liked about the place. Ever since his assignment to the small towns and rural areas of DeVegas Province he’d looked on his occasional big-city trips with a kind of nostalgic anticipation.
But not anymore. From now on, the tall buildings and masses of steel and concrete would forever be associated in his mind with the Qasaman city of Azras, and the death and destruction he’d seen there.
Cities no longer felt like refuges. Cities felt like deathtraps. “No, I’m ready,” he assured de Portola. “The aircar’s at the field?”
“Ready and waiting,” de Portola confirmed. “Soon as we drop off this rental, we’ll be on our—”
“Hold it,” Lorne said as his comm signaled. He pulled it out, frowned briefly at the ID display, and keyed it on. “Hey, Uncle Corwin,” he said. “What’s up?”
“We’ve got trouble,” Corwin said grimly. “Jody’s been taken from our car by a pair of Dominion Marines.”
Lorne felt his mouth drop open. “What in the Worlds for?”
“I don’t know,” Corwin said. “But it has something to do with you—they wanted to know where you were. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Lorne said between clenched teeth, a red rage boiling up inside of him. So their response to his little escape prank had been to take it out on his sister? “Don’t worry—I’ll get straight over to the Dome and raise whatever hell is necessary to get her out.”
“You can’t wait that long,” Corwin said. “One of the Marines has her recorder. It’s absolutely vital you get it back before they get there.”
Lorne frowned. Her recorder? “Understood,” he said, wishing he actually did. “Any idea which way they’re going?”
“Last we saw, they were heading north on Appletree in a tan Celera, starting at the intersection with Mitchell,” Corwin told him. “But they may be heading back to Cavendish.”
“Got it,” Lorne said, visualizing the map of the city. That intersection was about six blocks behind them and two streets over. Even if the Marines were planning to get on Cavendish he should be able to intercept them before they reached the ramp. “Got to run—I’ll call you.”
He keyed off the comm. “Sorry—”
“Yeah, we heard,” de Portola said tightly, pointing the direction opposite from Appletree. “There’s a patroller station about two blocks that way.”
“I don’t have time for—”
“Shut up and listen,” de Portola cut him off. “Get to the station and get in their faces about your sister being snatched. Badj and I will go get Jody.”
“And there’s no time to argue, so don’t,” Werle added. “Make noise for ten or twelve minutes, then head over to Hollenvar Car Parts—we’ll meet you out back. Go.”
Without waiting for a response, he and de Portola took off, sprinting down the street toward Appletree with servo-enhanced speed.
For a second Lorne stared after them, his brain still trying to process everything that had been dumped on it in the past thirty seconds. Then, spinning on his heel, he headed toward the patroller station. There would be time later to sort it all out.
He hoped.
#
They had reached the intersection of Appletree and South, and Jody was working on her fifth ridiculously heroic and utterly impractical scheme to get her recorder back when there was the muffled thud of a blowout and the car suddenly swerved violently to the side. For a handful of seconds she hung onto her restraints until the driver wrestled the car to a halt.
The Marine in the passenger seat swore under his breath. “Damn backwater junk,” he growled, shoving open his door. “Stay here,” he ordered, and climbed out…
…slowly, Jody drifted back to consciousness, vaguely aware that she was cold and uncomfortable and that she shouldn’t, in fact, be waking up from anything.
A murmur in the back of her brain coalesced into voices. Two of them, male, somewhere nearby. The darkness around her grew lighter, and she realized she was lying on her back on a cold surface, her neck and head on something softer and not as cold. She opened her eyes.
And found herself looking up at two strangers. One was crouched over her looking off to his left, the other standing on her other side and looking in the other direction.
Apparently, she’d been kidnapped.
With an effort she forced her eyes away from the men and focused on her surroundings. She was in a service alley somewhere, she decided, with three- and four-story buildings to either side of her and the only illumination coming from a street light half a block away in both directions. Above her, the sky was a faint haze that blocked out all but the brightest stars.
Which meant she was still in the city. A quiet, semi-deserted part of the city, probably, but still Capitalia.
And being in the city meant she was surrounded by patrollers and ordinary citizens and maybe even a few Cobras.
Carefully, she filled her lungs. She had no idea if anyone was even within earshot, but she had to try. And she would only have one shot at this. She opened her mouth—
Like a striking snake, the crouching man’s hand snapped up from his side and clamped solidly over her mouth. “Hey, none of that,” he admonished.
Jody grabbed at his arm, trying to wrench his hand away. She might as well have tried to lift her parents’ car. She tried to open her mouth far enough to bite him, but his palm was pressed too tightly against her lips. “Easy, there—easy,” the man said as she tried to twist her head away. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
“I’m Cobra Badger Werle,” the standing man added. “This is Cobra Dillon de Portola. We’re friends of your brother Lorne.”
Jody paused, peering more closely at the face leaning over her. Sure enough, she recognized them now from that single trip she’d made out to Archway to visit Lorne two years ago.
She nodded. Or rather, she tried to nod—de Portola’s grip was still holding her head immobile. But enough of the movement got through. He pulled his hand away, letting the nighttime air flow over her face again. “Sorry,” he apologized. “But we didn’t want you screaming. Someone might have heard.”
“And then we’d all be in trouble,” a new voice said.
And to Jody’s relief Lorne trotted up to the group. “Lorne!” she said, getting a hand under her and starting to get up.
“No—just stay there another minute,” Lorne said, squatting down beside de Portola and gently but firmly pushing Jody’s shoulders back onto the cold pavement. “You caught a sonic blast, and your balance is probably still shaky. You okay otherwise?”
“Yes, I think so,” Jody said. “I was—”
And suddenly, it all flooded back to her. “Lorne—my recorder!” she gasped. “The Marines have it.”
“No, it’s okay,” Werle said quickly. He dug the recorder out of his pocket and pressed it into her hand. “We got it back.”
“Thank you,” Jody breathed, closing her fingers tightly around the recorder, feeling the sudden spike in her heart rate start to slow down again.
“You can thank us by telling us what the hell is going on,” Lorne said a little gruffly. “What’s Uncle Corwin afraid of? That the Dominion will find out about your embarrassing taste in music?”
Jody flashed a look at each of the other two Cobras. “I don’t—”
“And if you’re thinking about going all dark and mysterious, don’t,” Lorne said firmly. “Badj and Dill just attacked a pair of Dominion Marines. Their necks are stuck out all the way into the next province on this one. They deserve to know what fire they just pulled your butt out of.”
Jody grimaced. But he was right. “You remember Uncle Corwin telling us at dinner that the Dominion is looking for Qasama?”
Lorne nodded. “Of course.”
“They’re looking for Qasama?” Werle cut in, frowning. “What in the Worlds for?”
“Nothing good, I’ll bet,” de Portola said. “From everything I’ve read of Dominion history—”
Lorne silenced him with a gesture. “What does this have to do with you?” he asked Jody.
She braced herself. “Qasama’s coordinates are on my recorder.”
The three men looked at each other. “So erase them,” de Portola said.
“Or if you want them really erased, let me do it,” Werle suggested, holding out his hand. “A couple of arcthrower shots, and they won’t even be able to tell that it was a recorder anymore.”
“It’s not that easy,” Jody said, clutching the recorder to her chest. “There’s other data there that I have to keep, and it’s all multi-laced. I can’t explain any further.”
“Okay,” Lorne said, clearly puzzled but also clearly willing to let her run with this. “So what’s the plan? I assume from the fact you were with Uncle Corwin that there was a plan?”
“I was trying to get to Esquiline,” Jody told him. “The Southern Cross is right across town, but it’s full. He was hoping he could twist Chintawa’s arm and get me aboard.”
“No chance of that now,” Lorne said, scratching his cheek. “Dill; Badj? Any ideas?”
“She could come to Archway with us,” de Portola suggested doubtfully. “Lots of places there where we could stash her for awhile.”
“No, I have to get off-planet,” Jody insisted. “I need to be able to…go. Other places.”
“Like Qasama?” de Portola asked pointedly.
“Just other places,” Jody said. “Look if you can’t help—”
“What about the Troft ship?” Werle asked suddenly.
“What Troft ship?” Lorne asked.
“There’s a Hoibie merchant on Aventine,” Werle said. “He was in Capitalia this morning, but I think he’s in Pindar right now.”
“Yes, he is,” de Portola confirmed. “I heard a couple of people in town talking about Hoibie shipments being due in this afternoon, and about damn time, too.”
“If we hurry, we should be able to get her there before he leaves.” Werle looked at Jody. “If you don’t mind traveling with Trofts, that is.”
“Riding a Hoibie ship will be a lot safer than sticking around here right now,” Jody said, suppressing a fresh flicker of uneasiness. A Tlossie ship she would have jumped at without hesitation, especially after all the time they’d spent with the Tlossie demesne-lord’s third-heir. But she didn’t know the Hoibies nearly so well.
But it was her best chance. Possibly her only chance. “The question will be whether or not I can get them to take me aboard,” she added.
“We’ll manage,” Lorne said, eyeing her closely. “My question is, where are they headed after they leave Aventine?”
“Anywhere will do,” Jody assured him, a sudden thought flicking across her mind. Esquiline was out, she realized now. With the Dominion fully aware that her entire family was involved, Aunt Fay’s house would be the first off-planet location that would pop up on their list. Depending on how badly they wanted her, they could find her there without much trouble.
On the other hand, if she could persuade the Hoibies to tweak their delivery schedule, maybe she could get them to take her somewhere a little less obvious.
Specifically, Caelian.
She didn’t have any family there, but she had friends. Lots of friends. Also lots of places she could hide from any Dominion force foolish enough to come after her. “And we’re wasting time,” she said, once again getting her hands beneath her. This time Lorne didn’t push her back down, but simply caught her arm and helped her to her feet. She wavered a moment, clenching her teeth as a wave of dizziness washed over her. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Right,” Werle said. Scooping up the folded jacket that Jody’s head had been resting on, he shook it out and put it on. “I’ll go get the car. With luck, we’ll be in the air before the Marines even wake up.”
#
Barrington just managed to get his last tunic fastener closed before the conference room door slid open in front of him. “All right, I’m here,” he growled. “What’s all the—?”
He broke off, silently cursing himself for his carelessness. Colonel Reivaro, the man who’d sent Barrington the urgent wake-up call, was standing behind the long table, his expression just short of explosive.
But he wasn’t alone. Seated at the head of the table was Commodore Santores.
And even a Dominion captain didn’t barge into the presence of a superior officer without the utmost decorum. “My apologies, Commodore,” Barrington said hastily, coming to quick and belated attention. At least he’d managed to have his uniform in proper order before the door opened.
“Sit down, Captain,” Santores said, his voice giving no indication that he’d even noticed Barrington’s lack of proper manners. “We have a situation.”
“Yes, sir,” Barrington said, sitting down in his usual place at Santores’s left.
Santores made a small gesture. “Colonel?”
“Earlier this afternoon, as ordered, I placed Cobra Lorne Broom under observation,” Reivaro said, his voice stiff and formal. “The Marines were instructed to make sure he returned to his quarters after dinner.” His throat tightened. “Somewhere on the drive back to the Dome he managed to give them the slip.”
Barrington looked at Santores, but the commodore’s face was giving nothing away. “How?” he asked Reivaro.
“We still don’t know,” the colonel admitted. “His disappearance was quickly noted, though, and immediately reported. Also reported was the fact that Cobra Broom’s sister Jody had left the Moreau home shortly after Cobra Broom’s departure in a car with her great uncle and aunt. As we now had indications of coordinated action, I ordered a second Marine dyad to intercept the Moreaus and bring Jody Broom here.”
“As bait to lure in her brother?” Barrington asked.
“Or as leverage,” Reivaro said. “But the point is moot. The car bringing her in was ambushed, the dyad rendered unconscious, and Ms. Broom has also now disappeared.”
Barrington winced. Dominion Marines didn’t take well to being bested, especially not as quickly and easily as Reivaro made it sound. “Her escape was engineered by Cobra Broom, I assume?”
“Oh, there’s no doubt about that,” Reivaro said icily. “But he didn’t do it directly. We have security footage of him at a patroller station at the time of the attack. Obtained after the fact, unfortunately. Obviously an attempt to buy himself an alibi while a group of his fellow Cobras carried out the actual extraction.”
“Do we know how many Cobras there were?”
“No,” Reivaro growled. “The Marines didn’t see their attackers, and we haven’t found any visual record of the incident itself. I’m told the city’s security monitor system was deactivated by the Trofts during the occupation, and Chintawa hasn’t yet seen fit to reactivate it.”
“I see,” Barrington murmured, his own comment earlier that afternoon flashing back to mind. The Cobras might be utilizing hundred-year-old technology, but that tech was apparently good enough to take out two Dominion Marines.
Of course, the Marines had been taken by surprise, with their movements severely limited by the car they were in. Under those conditions, a mob armed with nothing more than wooden clubs could probably have taken them out. “Do we have any idea where either the brother or sister are now?”
“Not yet,” Reivaro said, clearly clamping down hard on his temper. “But we’ve questioned the parents and the Moreaus, and stress-matrix analysis indicates that Jody was trying to get off-world. Possibly Lorne, too—the family wasn’t sure about him.”
Barrington felt his eyebrows rise a millimeter or two. A surprisingly brazen move, trying to sneak off-world, especially considering that there were three Dominion of Man warships orbiting overhead. “The spaceport’s been locked down, I presume?”
“Yes, sir.” Reivaro snorted. “For all the good that’ll do.”
“Because,” Santores said heavily, “we believe they’re already off Aventine.”
Barrington frowned. How could they have—?
And then he got it. “The Troft merchant ship.”
“So we believe,” Santores confirmed. “By the time Colonel Reivaro had sorted through the information and interrogation data, the Troft had already left Aventine. It lifted from the city of Pindar…where an aircar from Capitalia arrived approximately an hour before his departure.”
“Which I again don’t believe was a coincidence,” Reivaro said. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re have growing evidence of a massive conspiracy.”
Barrington gave a little shrug; agreement or acknowledgment, however Reivaro wanted to take it. “Do we have a plan yet on how to proceed?” he asked, turning to Santores.
“We do,” Santores said. “While Colonel Reivaro continues the investigation here, you’ll take the Dorian to the Hoibe’ryi’sarai home world and bring the fugitives back.”
Barrington felt his eyes widen. “Excuse me, sir?” he asked carefully.
“Relax, Captain,” Santores said, smiling slightly. “We’re not talking about a one-ship invasion of a Troft demesne. You’ll merely be carrying a message from Governor-General Chintawa requesting the Brooms’ extradition. He’s already assured me that their demesne-lord will honor it.”
“I see,” Barrington said, trying to read past his commander’s controlled expression. “In that case, why not send one of my couriers? I can have the Hermes detached and ready to fly in five hours.”
“I’d prefer that our initial show of presence be a bit more dramatic,” Santores said. “And with a ranking officer in command.”
“Yes, sir,” Barrington said, forcing back a frown. Something felt off-kilter here, but he couldn’t figure out what. “In that case, Commodore, I need to return to the Dorian and make preparations for our departure.”
“Indeed you do, Captain,” Santores agreed. “Check in with me before you leave orbit for any final data or instructions. Dismissed.”
It wouldn’t do, Barrington knew, to question a superior’s orders or information in that superior’s presence. He therefore waited until he was two corridors away from the conference room before keying his comm for Meekan.
Barrington had been called out of bed for his emergency meeting with Santores and Reivaro. By all rights his aide should have answered the call in a similar bleary-eyed state. But to Barrington’s complete lack of surprise, his cornea projector came on to show Meekan awake and properly dressed in full day uniform. Once again, the unofficial ship’s grapevine had done an efficient job of alerting subordinates to sudden changes in their superiors’ schedules. “Yes, Captain?” Meekan said briskly.
“I want you to do a search through Aventine’s official computer system,” Barrington said. “I’m told that Cobra Lorne Broom and his sister Jody have disappeared and are possibly off-world. I want some evidence one way or the other.”
“Yes, sir,” Meekan said, taking the order in his usual calm stride. “Anything else?”
“That should do for now,” Barrington said. “Connect me to CoNCH, then get busy.”
“Yes, sir.”
The projected image winked out and was replaced a few seconds later by a view of Commander Garrett in the CoNCH command chair. “Captain,” Garrett greeted him as briskly as Meekan had. “You’re up early.”
“You have no idea,” Barrington told him. “New orders, Commander. We’re taking the Dorian to the home world of the Hoibe’ryi’sarai Troft demesne. We have the coordinates?”
Garrett’s eyes widened, just noticeably. But like Meekan, he’d been in the Fleet long enough to have learned how to take even the most bizarre orders without question. “Yes, sir, we do,” he confirmed. “Do we have an ETD?”
“Nothing official,” Barrington said. “But I doubt the commodore will be pleased if we dawdle.”
“Understood, sir,” Garrett said. “I’ll start prep immediately. When will you be back?”
“I have a few things to finish up down here first, but I should be leaving within the hour.”
“Yes, sir,” Garrett said. “I’ll alert your launch crew to begin pre-flight.”
“Very good, Commander,” Barrington said. “Captain out.”
He keyed off the comm and resumed his walk toward his quarters. He hadn’t brought very much down from the ship, but those few items needed to be packed. Someone else could do that, and probably should, but at this point it would be quicker for Barrington to do it himself than to roust a yeoman out of bed.
His comm toned with Meekan’s ident, and Barrington again twitched on his projector. “Is there a problem, Lieutenant?”
“No problem, sir,” Meekan said. “I have a preliminary report. So far I haven’t found anything current for Jody Broom. But Lorne Broom has been added to today’s Cobra duty roster in DeVegas province.”
“Really,” Barrington said, frowning. Still, it could be nothing more than a leftover scheduling fragment from when Broom was supposed to be heading back there this morning. “When was the update?”
Meekan twitched his eyelid. “Thirty-seven minutes ago.”
“I see,” Barrington said, forcing his voice to remain calm. “See if there’s anything more on Lorne, and continue looking for Jody.”
“Yes, sir,” Meekan said.
Barrington keyed off, and for a moment he stared blackly at the Dome corridor in front of him. Then, spinning around in a parade-perfect one-eighty, he stalked back toward the conference room.
Meekan knew. And if a lowly captain’s aide could figure this out from a simple remote search of Aventine’s computer system, anyone could. Including Colonel Reivaro.
Including Commodore Santores.
Someone had lied to him. And Barrington Jame Moreau did not take kindly to being lied to.
Santores and Reivaro were still at the table, talking together in low tones. Both looked up as Barrington strode into the room. “We need to talk, Commodore,” Barrington said without preamble.
For a moment Santores eyed him in silence. Then, he inclined his head fractionally. “If you’ll excuse us, Colonel?”
“Of course, sir,” Reivaro said, his usual annoying bluster momentarily subdued beneath his instinct for self-preservation. Avoiding Barrington’s glare, he made a hasty exit.
“You have a question, Captain?” Santores asked.
“Lorne Broom hasn’t left Aventine,” Barrington said. “There are indications he’s in DeVegas province.”
“I know,” Santores acknowledged calmly. “He arrived at the Cobra station in Archway early this morning and reported for duty.”
“I see,” Barrington said stiffly. Other flag officers he’d worked with would have either dragged out the lie as long as they could or else tried to shift the blame elsewhere. At least Santores had opted for honesty. Eventually. “Do I assume you’re canceling my orders to take the Dorian to Hoibe’ryi’sarai?”
“Not at all,” Santores said. “You yourself pointed out that Broom’s sister is still unaccounted for.”
“We don’t need her,” Barrington said.
“Don’t we?” Santores countered. “Consider, Captain. Jody Broom heads for the Dome, allegedly hoping the governor-general can get her aboard a ship bound for Esquiline. When she’s intercepted, she tries to hide a device we’ve since identified as a recorder. After the Marines are ambushed, not only is Ms. Broom gone, but so is the recorder.” He cocked his head. “I for one am interested in knowing what’s on that recorder. Aren’t you?”
“I’m mildly curious, yes,” Barrington conceded. “But I was under the impression that our first priority was finding Qasama. Lorne Broom is still here. If you think the MindsEye can pull Qasama’s location out of him, why not just bring him back and put him under?”
“For how long?” Santores asked. “The six hours Captain Lij Tulu wanted?”
“I’d prefer the full week that’ll allow him to live through the procedure,” Barrington said stiffly. “Fortunately, as of now, that should be possible. With his sister’s disappearance you should be able to tag him as a material witness and announce you’ll be holding him aboard the Algonquin until Jody Broom surrenders herself.”
“I see your patron’s instructed you in the art of the convenient half-truth,” Santores said. “Unfortunately, it’s not that easy. As Colonel Reivaro said, there’s growing evidence of a conspiracy between the Aventinian government, the Cobras, and the Trofts. Lorne Broom’s open reappearance in DeVegas might be his attempt to draw our attention and make us forget about his sister. But it might equally well be his version of a challenge for us to come and get him.”
“So do it,” Barrington said, frowning. “What’s the problem?”
“The same problem we had earlier today,” Santores said, impatience creeping into his voice. “We still need Chintawa’s cooperation, and he’s made it clear that he won’t release any of the Broom family into our custody until the treason charges have been worked through. It could very well be that Lorne’s attempting to push us into trying to take over the Cobra Worlds before we have sufficient cause. If we react to his reappearance too hastily and without careful consideration, we could find ourselves having to choose between a planetary revolt or a public and embarrassing positional retreat.” He raised his eyebrows. “I have no interest in doing either.”
“Understood, sir,” Barrington said, trying without success to read what was going on behind Santores’s eyes. “I presume, then, that you’ve found another option?”
For a moment Santores’s eyes held Barrington’s. Then, to Barrington’s surprise, the commodore’s gaze drifted away. “You know, it’s really quite interesting,” he said meditatively. “I’ve been reading up on Cobra Worlds history, and it’s remarkable how often the Moreau family has ended up at or near the flashpoint of some critical moment.”
“It’s been the same with my branch of the family,” Barrington murmured, a shiver running up his back. “Am I to understand that they’re about to be the flashpoint again?”
“We’re three ships against an entire planet, Captain,” Santores reminded him. “Several planets, actually. We can’t bring Lorne Broom in for a week of interrogation against the wishes of a hostile government. We need for the government in question to voluntarily cede us that authority, or to make a flex-wrapped case to that government as to why we need to invoke martial law. And to bring that about—” His lips compressed. “Things may get a bit unpleasant.”
Barrington took a careful breath. “That’s the real reason I’m going to Hoibe’ryi’sarai, isn’t it? You don’t really care about Jody Broom and her recorder. You just want me out of the way so that I can’t object to what’s about to happen.”
“It’s for your own good, Captain,” Santores said. “Both for your career, and for your standing with your patron.”
“And if I refuse to be shunted to the side so that Lij Tulu has free rein to play with his MindsEye toy?”
“Walk carefully, Captain Moreau,” Santores warned, his voice and words suddenly gone formal. “The consequences of disobeying a direct order is something even your patron would be unable to remedy.”
“I don’t disobey, sir,” Barrington said, matching his tone. “I merely appeal the order in the strongest terms possible.”
“And that appeal is denied,” Santores said. “Never forget, Captain, that you’re not the only one with a patron. Mine also demands certain results. And he will have them.”
And whoever Santores’s patron was, he was probably higher on the political food chain than Barrington’s was. “Then I’ll content myself with pointing out that martial law is a twin-ended torch,” he said. “If we end up at war with these people, we might as well have stayed home.”
“I’m aware of that, Captain,” Santores said. “But whatever happens, at least you’ll be clear of any repercussions. That should keep you out of trouble with your patron.”
“My patron is not so easily beguiled,” Barrington warned. “And as long as we’re talking about trouble, remember that sending me into Troft space just to get me out of your way will reduce your fighting force here by a full third. That’s not a good position for any commander to be in.”
“If our ships’ weaponry is needed, we’ll have already lost,” Santores said heavily. “The decision has been made, Captain. My order stands.”
“Yes, sir.” Barrington straightened to full attention. “With your permission, Commodore, I’ll return to the Dorian and prepare for our departure.”
“Very good, Captain,” Santores said, just as formally. “And content yourself with the fact that things seldom turn out as badly as one anticipates.”
A minute later, Barrington was again striding down the corridor, his heart aching with anger and frustration and dread. Santores was right, of course. Things were seldom as bad as expected. Sometimes, they were better.
Sometimes, they were much, much worse.