Cobra Outlaw - eARC (10 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

It was odd, Paul thought, how darkness of heart, lightness of head, dimness of vision, and silence of hearing could all exist in such harmony together. Perhaps someday he would write a paper on the subject.

Though the vision wasn’t really all dimness. There were flashes of light, probably one every minute or two. He wasn’t sure about that—his nanocomputer’s clock circuit didn’t seem to be working properly at the moment.

Occasionally, the flashes gave way to more complete visions: memories mostly, though usually they went by so quickly that he couldn’t figure out what they were memories of. But mostly it was just light, like there was a viewscreen just a degree or two out of his line of sight that was playing one of those memories.

The silence wasn’t all silent, either. There were voices muttering or rumbling in the background, counting out numbers or letters, occasionally making some comment that he couldn’t understand. Sometimes he thought about keying his audio enhancers, but usually those moments of real conversation were so short that by the time he’d made up his mind to listen in it was too late.

But at least the voices proved he wasn’t alone. That was good, because it certainly
felt
alone.

The darkness of heart he couldn’t quite figure out. Something must be wrong, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what it was.

“Captain,” a distant voice said.

Paul frowned inside himself.
That
was a voice he recognized, though he couldn’t place it. But the
Captain
part—that had to be Captain Lij Tulu. That particular name had cropped up many times throughout the dimness and darkness.

“Commodore,” a second voice—Lij Tulu’s?—said. Unlike the usual voices hovering at the edges of Paul’s hearing, there was some actual emotion in Lij Tulu’s. Surprise, maybe. Would surprise be the right reaction for hearing Commodore speak to him?

“I’m sorry, sir—I wasn’t informed you were aboard,” Lij Tulu continued.

“That’s because I specifically left orders that my arrival not be reported to you,” Commodore said.

“Indeed,” Lij Tulu said. A new emotion had overtaken the surprise, and Paul took a moment to try to puzzle it out. Annoyance? Resentment?

Fear?

“Continuity is important to the MindsEye process,” Commodore said. “I didn’t want you to interrupt your work for a formal welcome.”

“I see,” Lij Tulu said. Some of the emotion was gone, Paul noticed.

But only some of it. Whether it was annoyance, resentment, or fear, there was still an echo of it lurking in his voice.

Belatedly, Paul realized that he should have keyed up his audios. But following quickly on that thought came the realization that he was already hearing the conversation just fine. Apparently, Commodore wasn’t bothering to keep his voice down the way the others usually did.

“I wish you’d called first, though,” Lij Tulu continued. He wasn’t keeping his voice down, either. “I could have saved you the trip across. I’m afraid we haven’t yet located the proper memories. But it’s still early in the process. I’m sure we’ll locate them eventually.”

“Hopefully before Captain Moreau brings back the coordinates himself?”

“I don’t believe for a minute this Ukuthi character really means to give him that information,” Lij Tulu said stiffly. “Trust me, Commodore—I’ll have it long before any Troft gives it up.”

“And Cobra Broom is handling it well?”

“His vitals are well within acceptable range,” Lij Tulu said. “He should come through without damage.”

“Good,” Commodore said. “And the memories you
have
found?”

“We’re stockpiling them, as per standard procedure,” Lij Tulu said. “If there’s nothing else, Commodore, we’re quite busy here.”

“As a matter of fact, Captain, there
is
something else we need to discuss,” Commodore said. “Can he hear us?”

“No, sir. The only way into his auditory center is via the MindsEye path, and we closed that down right after his final briefing and instructions.”

That
was interesting, Paul thought. Did that mean his audio enhancers didn’t, in fact, feed into his brain’s hearing center? He’d always assumed that it did, but Lij Tulu seemed to be contradicting that.

“Why, does this concern his family?” Lij Tulu continued.

“It could,” Commodore said, his tone going grim. “The
Falcon
’s returned from Caelian. It seems that the
Squire
has disappeared.”

“Disappeared? You mean left the planet?”

“That’s the most likely explanation,” Commodore said. “Except that the Caelians won’t talk about it. Everyone Commander Ferrero could get hold of insisted he talk to someone else. It was like a damn Roselle circle down there.”

“What about Governor Uy?”

“Allegedly unavailable,” Commodore said. “Supposedly still recovering from the injuries he sustained during the Troft invasion.”

“If that’s not just an excuse, it follows that he can’t have gotten very far,” Lij Tulu pointed out. “Where and how extensively did Ferrero search?”

“He didn’t,” Commodore said. “He stayed in low orbit the entire time.”

“He didn’t
land
?” Lij Tulu demanded, sounding scandalized. “How exactly did he plan to do his job without getting his boots dirty?”

“He decided to exercise the better part of valor,” Commodore said. “Because the
Squire
might have left, it might have been moved…or it might have been destroyed.”

There was a sound that Paul tentatively concluded was a derisive snort. “I hardly think
that
could be the case.”

“You may have to retrain your thought processes,” Commodore said, his voice hardening. “Ferrero thinks he spotted signs of heavy laser scoring on the landing field ground south of Stronghold.”

“He
thinks
he spotted laser scoring? A first-year midshipman can identify that kind of damage.”

“Not on Caelian he can’t,” Commodore said. “The damn flora grows so fast that it could mat over a full-bore battleground within a couple of days. I’ve got my tactical people looking over his recordings, but I’m not optimistic they’ll be able to pull anything solid.”

“It still doesn’t make any sense,” Lij Tulu said. “Aventine hasn’t got weapons capable of taking out the
Squire.
And if
they
don’t, Caelian damn well doesn’t.”

“That assumes that the Cobra Worlds’ listed assets are in a one-to-one correspondence with their real assets,” Commodore pointed out. “We don’t really know
what
Caelian’s got. Especially not after having taken down a couple of Troft warships. It’s possible they were able to salvage and restore some of the weaponry.”

“Or maybe Troft weaponry got there via a more direct route,” Lij Tulu said.

“That possibility hadn’t escaped me,” Commodore agreed. “Captain Moreau’s interaction with that Balin’ekha’spmi commander—Ukuthi—shows that at least one Troft demesne is poking around the edges of all this. If one, why not two or three?”

“Or it could all be coming from just Ukuthi,” Lij Tulu pointed out. “He already seems the type to play the ends against each other. Playing Moreau for a fool while stirring the Caelian pot would fit right in with that kind of duplicity.”

“Which is why I’m not sending the
Falcon
back there,” Commodore said. “If and when we meet the Caelians again, we’ll be going in with the
Algonquin
or the
Megalith
. Just in case the Trofts are indeed on the playing field.”

“I agree, sir,” Lij Tulu said. “Just give the word—we’re on ninety-minute standby.”

“Easy, Captain,” Commodore said. “I said
if and when
. We’re not going to rush this. We’re certainly not going to Caelian until you finish your examination of Cobra Broom. No, I think we can afford to let Uy sit in silence a few more days. Give him time to think about the consequences of whatever it is he’s doing.”

“Hopefully, he won’t take advantage of the lull to prepare more heavy weapons,” Lij Tulu warned. “Assuming he actually has any, of course.”

“I’m certain he’ll be making all the preparations he can,” Commodore said. “But all that will accomplish will be to make the psychological slap that much harder when we sweep those defenses away.”

“Yes, sir.” To Paul’s mind, Lij Tulu didn’t sound completely convinced. But it was possible his ears were playing tricks on him. Or whatever it was—ears or something else—that was picking up this conversation.

“Meanwhile, the
Hermes
is on its way to rendezvous with the
Dorian
,” Commodore continued. “We’ll see if Ukuthi’s coordinates are worth anything. If not, he and the Balin demesne may need a psychological slap of their own.”

“The
Algonquin
stands ready for that, as well, sir.” Lij Tulu paused. “If I may ask a question, Commodore?”

“Certainly.”

“Why exactly did you come across to see me, sir? This could all have been handled via comm.”

“Up to now, yes, it could have,” Commodore agreed. “We now get to two points that couldn’t. Two points, Captain, which you’re to keep strictly to yourself for the present. Point one: if we haven’t located Qasama within the next thirty days, I intend to revert to the original plan.”

“To use Aventine as bait?”

“Not quite,” Commodore said. “Instead of Aventine, we’ll be setting the dummy base on Caelian.”

There was a soft hissing noise. “I don’t think Governor Uy will think much of that idea.”

“I’m certain he won’t,” Commodore agreed. “And if he reacts as badly as I’m expecting…well, let’s just hope he’s willing to see reason. Your engineers are already slated to create the necessary installations. I came here to tell you that, with Colonel Reivaro tied up with the Aventinian Cobras, it’ll be your Marines who’ll be tasked with suppressing any Caelian opposition.”

“After more talking, I presume?”

“Not this time,” Commodore said grimly. “The thirty days I’m allowing for the Qasama discovery represents all of the time the plan authorizes for diplomacy and persuasion.
All
of it. If we use up those days and come up empty, the next visit to Caelian will be the start of the building process.”

“Understood, sir,” Lij Tulu said. “Though I presume it can’t look that way?”

“Correct,” Commodore said. “Your Marines will need to create the same sort of situation Santores engineered in Archway. Whatever ultimately happens out here, we’ll need to be able to present the Dome with unequivocal proof that we acted in strict accordance with Dominion law.”

“Don’t worry, sir,” Lij Tulu said. “I know how to handle it.”

“Good,” Commodore said. “Then to my final point. I promised Governor-general Chintawa that I would protect Cobra Broom as best I could against any MindsEye side effects. With the
Dorian
gone, the timeline ticking down, and Caelian having suddenly become a giant question mark, I can no longer afford to keep that promise. Whatever you need to do in order to dig out Broom’s memories…” He left the sentence unfinished.

“Understood, sir,” Lij Tulu said. “If Qasama’s coordinates are in there, we’ll find them.”

“Good,” Commodore said. “Carry on, Captain.”

“Yes, sir,” Lij Tulu said. “Thank you, Commodore.”

The conversation had been important, Paul decided as the silence again flowed over him. But
how
it was important, and what the full implications of it might be, he found himself unable to pin down.

But he would continue to mull at it, and sooner or later he would figure it out.

And, really, he had plenty of time.

#

“Corwin? Corwin!”

Corwin Moreau froze at his basement workbench, his chest tightening as he looked across the basement toward the stairway leading up into the main part of the house. He knew his wife’s tones of voice better than he did his own. And the tension he could hear there… “Down here, Thena!” he called back. Carefully, he laid the piece of experimental ceramic he’d been working on back into its mold.

And then, reaching beneath the workbench, he slid the hidden handgun from its holster.

“Stay there,” Thena called. “We’re coming to you.”

We
. Taking a deep breath, Corwin thumbed off the gun’s safety. For the past four days, ever since the Archway massacre, he’d been expecting just such a late-evening visitation. The only question had been whether the intruders would be Chintawa’s people or Dominion Marines.

Either way, he intended to be ready.

The footsteps above him tracked across to the stairway and became footsteps on the stairs. Keeping the gun out of sight beneath the workbench, he lined up the muzzle on the base of the stairway.

Thena appeared first, her legs recognizable from the slacks he knew she was wearing this evening. There was a single person behind her, the shoes indicating that the visitor was probably a man, following about three steps back.

And both the shoes and the trousers looked to be normal civilian weave and cut instead of the Aventinian or Dominion uniform that Corwin had been expecting. Had Chintawa decided to play this low-key?

They continued down the stairs, Thena finally reaching a level where Corwin could see her face. Her expression held the same tension he’d heard in her voice when she first called to him, but he could see nothing of the fear or outrage that an official visitation should have prompted. And indeed, as the man descended further Corwin could see that the rest of his outfit was also civilian, a nice but relatively inexpensive suit.

His face, as it came into view, was one Corwin had never seen before.

“Corwin, this is Dushan Matavuli,” Thena said, stepping aside at the foot of the steps to allow the visitor to approach the workbench. “He’s a rancher from DeVegas province.”

Corwin caught his breath. DeVegas. “Welcome to the Island, Mr. Matavuli,” he said cautiously. “What can I do for you?”

“You’re secure down here?” Matavuli asked, looking around. “I mean,
really
secure?”

“I was once a governor,” Corwin reminded him. “It’s a job that makes paranoids of even the most innocent of men. Trust me—I have all the bells and whistles to insure that private conversations in this house remain private.”