Cobra Alliance-Cobra War Book 1 (24 page)

Merrick stared at him, his mouth dropping open in astonishment. "They're
what?
"

"There's no time," Zoshak repeated. "Quickly, now, before more aliens arrive. Your Excellencies?"

One of the Shahni stepped forward. The second paused to squeeze the old woman's shoulder and then followed. "Wait a minute," Merrick protested. "We can't just leave these people here to die."

"We have no choice," the second Shahni said firmly. "There is insufficient time to bring everyone through the escape route Djinni Zoshak has prepared."

"Then we'd better find some other way out for them," Merrick said harshly. "Plan Saikah starts with blowing up the Palace, remember?"

"And so we will serve our people," the young man said. His hand, Merrick noted, was tightly gripping the young woman's.

"Are the children to serve the same way?" Merrick demanded.

"They are sons of Qasama," the young man said, letting go of the woman's hand and resting one hand on each of the two boys' shoulders. "They will do what is necessary."

"There
is
no other way out," the first Shahni said impatiently. "And we waste time."

Merrick focused on the boys' faces. Both were trying very hard to be as brave and determined as their parents, but the younger one was clearly teetering on the point of tears.

The only route now into or out of the Palace is through the main doors,
Miron Akim had said, and the first Shahni had now confirmed it. Unfortunately, it was an exit currently blocked by multiple layers of armed Trofts.

Merrick's old spine leopard hunting squad might have been able to cut through them all. But the squad wasn't here, and Merrick didn't have a hope of defeating that many enemies, especially not once the element of surprise was gone.

Which meant he had to somehow get the Trofts to leave on their own.

"Can you get the two Shahni out by yourself?" he asked, turning back to Zoshak. "Piggyback them down on your shoulders or something?"

"What nonsense is this?" the first Shahni growled. "You have been ordered to bring us out. You will obey that order.
Now.
"

Merrick kept his eyes on Zoshak. "Carsh Zoshak?"

Zoshak looked at the two children. "It would be difficult for the one directly above me," he said hesitantly. "He would carry much of the weight of the second upon his own shoulders."

"We waste time—" the first Shahni said.

"What are you proposing?" the second Shahni interrupted.

"I'm proposing that Djinni Zoshak bring you both out," Merrick told him, "while I attempt to do the same with the others."

"You think you can carry all five of them upon
your
shoulders?" the first Shahni scoffed. "This is foolishness. I insist you carry out your orders."

Merrick turned to face him. "Technically, Your Excellency, I'm not—"

"It can be done," the second Shahni again interrupted. "I will take center position, above Djinni Zoshak's shoulders, with Shahni Melcha's weight upon me."

"Thank you, Your Excellency," Merrick said, turning back to Zoshak. "Can you do it?"

Zoshak's lips were pressed tightly together, but he gave a short nod. "I believe so," he said.

"Then get them to the cylinder and get in," Merrick said. "I'll be there in a minute to help them in behind you. Any idea how long before Plan Saikah starts?"

"Approximately ten minutes," Zoshak said, motioning the two Shahni toward the door.

"Can you find out more exactly?" Merrick asked.

"It would require me to transmit the request," Zoshak warned. "The invaders have already shown they can detect those signals."

"That's okay," Merrick assured him. "In fact, at this point, the more transmissions out of here, the better." He gestured to the young man. "I'll need some kind of timer," he continued. "It doesn't have to connect to anything, but it has to have a visible countdown display. Is there anything in here you can rig up to do that?"

The young man glanced at the two Shahni, as if for confirmation that he was allowed to talk to this upstart stranger. "There's an assembly timer in the lounge," he said. "It calls the Shahni to meetings, marking the time remaining until the opening prayer."

"But the display has repeaters throughout the building, including the lower floors," the young woman put in. "The invaders may see it."

"Perfect," Merrick told her. "Carsh Zoshak?"

"Twelve minutes and thirty seconds," Zoshak reported.

"Set the timer to hit zero twelve minutes and thirty seconds from now," Merrick instructed the young man. "Then return here, and leave the door open so I can get back in. Come on, Djinni Zoshak—let's get you and the Shahni out of here."

They headed back toward the communications room. "I hope you have a plan," Zoshak warned quietly. "I don't know how you see things on your world, but here we're expected to obey orders precisely. We were told to rescue the Shahni. That's all that matters."

"And you
are
rescuing them," Merrick reminded him. "As for how we do things on the Cobra Worlds, we absolutely do
not
abandon anyone if there's a chance of saving them."

"Even at the risk of your own life?"

An echo of the brief battle in the control tower elevator flashed through Merrick's mind. Before that, he'd never fully appreciated the ramifications of the fact that war meant he would have to kill.

Just as he had never before appreciated on a gut level that he might also have to die.

But he certainly couldn't confess such fears and doubts in front of a dedicated soldier like Zoshak. Personal and national pride both demanded Merrick maintain some shred of dignity here. "Yes, even then," he said, trying to sound strong and fearless. "What other purpose does a soldier have?"

For a moment Zoshak was silent. Merrick winced, wondering if the other had penetrated his deception and was wondering what kind of coward he was traveling with. "We've been told you demon warriors come from a soft people," the Qasaman said at last. "It appears we were wrong."

Merrick snorted quietly, Governor Treakness's contempt for the Cobras flashing to mind. "Don't fool yourself—my people have plenty of softness," he said grimly. "But we still have a few pockets of strength left."

The two Shahni were waiting in the communications room when Merrick and Zoshak arrived. The first was gazing down into the open cylinder, an incredulous look on his face. "You expect us to travel through
this?
" he demanded.

"It is passable," Zoshak assured him as he hopped up onto the desk and slipped his legs into the cylinder. Pressing his feet firmly against the sides, he stood upright and slid smoothly downward until only his head was visible. "Shahni Haafiz, you'll need to climb up onto the desk and place your feet on my shoulders," he said. "Mind your hands—the cylinder edge is sharp in places."

Haafiz looked at Merrick. "Your assistance," he ordered.

"Certainly." Merrick stepped forward and held out a hand. "Lean on me, Your Excellency."

Haafiz took hold of Merrick's forearm and hoisted one foot up onto the desk.

And suddenly a small knife flashed in his other hand, driving straight at Merrick's heart.

It was so unexpected that for that crucial fraction of a second Merrick's eyes and brain refused to grasp the fact that he was under attack by a man he was risking his own life to save. But his nanocomputer had no such emotional limitations. Even as the knife tip drove through Merrick's clothing and into his skin his servos were twisting his torso away from the blade while at the same time shoving him backward.

But even Cobra reflexes could move a man only so fast from a dead stop. As Merrick twisted and fell onto his back he could feel the throbbing pain in his chest and the warm spreading wetness of his own blood. "What are you
doing?
" he gasped, pushing himself desperately backward along the floor on his torn palms.

"You think I do not know who and what you are, enemy of Qasama?" Haafiz bit out, jabbing his knife toward Merrick, an edge of bright red now coating the gleaming metal. "Better for my family to die together in honor than to allow them to fall into your hands and those of your allies."

"I'm not working with the Trofts," Merrick protested, clutching at his wound. The sudden pressure sent a dazzling stab of new pain through the torn skin. "I came here to help you."

"And here is where you will die," Haafiz said. Shifting the grip on his knife, he started toward Merrick. Merrick braced himself, flicking a target lock on to the knife.

And then, through the open doorway behind him, he heard a dull thunderclap and the crackle of scattered debris hitting tiled floor. "You hear that?" he demanded as the Shahni came to a sudden halt. "That's the Trofts getting through the barricade I set up to slow them down."

"That
you
set up?" Haafiz scoffed.

"There is no time for foolishness," Zoshak snapped. His face was rigid, his eyes staring in horror and disbelief at the spreading stain on Merrick's tunic. "Shahni Haafiz, you must come to me now, or die."

The Shahni hesitated another moment. Then, contemptuously tossing the knife to the side, he turned and climbed up onto the desk. Zoshak slid farther down the cylinder and Haafiz put his legs in. As he slid downward, the other Shahni climbed in on top of him, this one not even bothering to glance in Merrick's direction. Another moment, and he, too, was out of sight.

Leaving Merrick, bleeding and alone, to face the Trofts.

"Damn," Merrick muttered, pressing his hand to his chest as he carefully got to his feet, the throbbing agony in his chest momentarily eclipsed by an equally throbbing rage. What the
hell
did Haafiz think he was doing? And who the hell did he think he was doing it to? Staggering on suddenly wobbly knees, Merrick made his way across to the cylinder. He would like nothing better than to jump up onto the desk, aim his antiarmor laser down the cylinder, and give His Exalted Excellency Shahni Haafiz one last second of wisdom-enhancing pain before he died.

He couldn't do that, of course. Not even if he could guarantee that such a blast wouldn't kill two innocents in the process.

But he would remember Shahni Haafiz. He would remember him well.

The metal lid he'd burned off earlier was still lying on the desk. Setting it back on top of the cylinder, Merrick fired three quick shots with his fingertip lasers, spot-welding it into place. Then, pressing one hand against his chest wound, wondering how deep the Shahni's blade had gotten and how fast he was losing blood, he headed back toward the safe room.

He was nearly there when five Trofts suddenly appeared, their lasers pointed at him. "Human, stop!" the translator pin boomed.

"We have to get out of here," Merrick gasped, putting a weaving stagger into his walk as he continued toward them, trying to look like a man on his last legs. "They wouldn't listen—they wouldn't

stop it. He stabbed me—"

"Human,
stop!
" the Troft repeated, more emphatically this time.

"He tried to kill me," Merrick said, finally coming to a shambling halt. "He stabbed me, and then they left."

"Who left?" the Troft demanded.

"The Shahni who were hiding here," Merrick said. There was a sudden commotion behind the Trofts and another group of aliens appeared, pulling and dragging the five Qasamans who Merrick had left in the safe room. "They were hiding with them in that secret room," Merrick added, pointing at the newcomers. "They're going to blow up the building and kill us."

One of the Trofts stepped to the side, covering his translator and muttering urgent-sounding cattertalk into his radio. "Didn't you hear me?" Merrick pleaded, putting some desperation in his voice. "They're going to blow up the building. You have to get us out of here."

"How do they plan to do that?" the lead Troft asked. "With artillery?"

"The bombs are already built into the walls," Merrick said, wondering dimly whether the aliens were serious or just humoring him.

But the tone of the soldier still talking with upper command was anything but light-hearted. Even more telling, all the aliens were exhibiting the telltale fluttering of radiator membranes that was the mark of serious emotion. They believed him, all right.

And only then did it occur to him that Shahni Haafiz's sneak attack might have something to do with that. A human in the Shahni's palace would almost certainly be lying to Qasama's invaders. A human who those same Shahni had tried to kill might not be.

"Which walls?" the Troft demanded.

That was, Merrick realized with a sinking sensation, a damn good question. He'd hoped to sell this story to the Trofts, but had never really expected to get even this far with it. Apparently his bloody tunic, plus the ticking countdown timer the young Qasaman man had set up, had convinced someone to take the whole thing seriously.

Only now he was expected to point out some actual explosives as confirmation. Without any such proof, the Trofts would probably put his story down to an elaborate hoax and go about their business.

At least until the building turned to fiery dust eight and a half minutes from now. "I don't—" Merrick began.

"Traitor!" the Qasaman man shouted suddenly. "Don't tell them!"

Merrick jerked, the movement sending a fresh wave of pain through his chest, the words themselves digging deep into his soul. Couldn't these people understand that he was trying to help them? Were they all so full of unthinking rage at what his parents and grandparents had done that they couldn't see anything beyond that?

And then he took another look into the young man's eyes. Eyes that were holding steady on Merrick even as the rest of his face twisted with rage and contempt. Eyes that waited until Merrick was looking straight at them, and then flicked to his right.

And with that, some of the frustrated weariness lifted from Merrick's shoulders. The young man was onto Merrick's plan . . . and despite Qasama's corporate institutional rage at the Cobra Worlds, he was willing to cooperate. "You want to die?" Merrick demanded, throwing every bit of acting ability he'd ever had into selling it.