Cobra Bargain Page 5

  "Enough." Chandler hadn't raised his voice, but something in his tone sliced cleanly through the burgeoning argument. "I've worked up a preliminary cost analysis for the proposed Qasaman mission-we'll take a short recess now for you to examine it. Mr. Moreau, I'd like to see you in my office, if I may."

  "You realize, I presume, what you're asking the Directorate to do," Chandler said, gaze locked on Corwin's face. "Not to mention what you're asking me, personally, to do."

  Corwin forced himself to meet the other's gaze. "I'm doing nothing but trying to give this mission of yours a better chance of success."

  Chandler's lip twitched. "So it's 'my' mission now, is it?"

  "Isn't it?" Corwin countered. "You clearly set it up privately, without the assistance or even the knowledge of the Academy board. Not to mention the knowledge of the Directorate itself."

  Chandler's expression didn't change. "You have any proof of that?"

  "If Justin had known this was in the works, he would have told me about it."

  "That's hardly proof. I could have sworn all of the Academy directors to secrecy."

  Corwin didn't answer, and after a moment Chandler sighed. "Let's be honest, here, shall we, Moreau? Logic and social goals notwithstanding, the real reason you want your niece in the Cobras is because your brother wants her there."

  "She wants it herself, too," Corwin told him. "And, yes, I'll admit that there's part of me that wants to keep the family tradition alive. That doesn't negate the reasons I gave the Directorate a few minutes ago."

  "No, but it muddies the politics considerably," Chandler grunted. "Okay, then-run the scenario. Tell me how the votes would fall if we went back and called a showdown."

  "Telek and I would vote yes," Corwin said slowly. "Priesly and Atterberry would of course vote no, whether they agreed with me or not. Vartanson and Bailar... probably yes. Vartanson because if women were allowed in, it would effectively double Caelian's pool of Cobra candidates; Bailar because the Qasamans are only a few light-years from Esquiline's doorstep and he'll be more concerned with the logic of Jin's case than in history. With Vartanson's double vote, that would give me five votes."

  "Which means you need one more vote for a clear majority," Chandler said. "Mine, for instance."

  Corwin looked him square in the eye. "Yours was always the only vote I really needed."

  For a moment Chandler gazed back at him in silence. "Politics goes in cycles," he said at last. "If the governor-general's office has more power now than it has had in the past, I make no apologies for it." He pursed his lips, slowly shook his head. "But you're wrong if you think I can push this through on my own, against all opposition. Priesly alone would be too much to buck."

  Corwin turned away from him, eyes drifting to the governor-general's floor-to-ceiling window and the panoramic view of Capitalia that it opened onto.

  In his mind's eye, he could see Jin's face, last night, as she pleaded with him... could see Justin's expression at the hospital as the enormity of what he'd inadvertently done slowly became apparent. What price power? he thought dimly to himself. What use is this office, anyway, if it's not to do what needs to be done? "All right, then," he said slowly. "If Priesly needs incentive, I'll give it to him." He turned back to Chandler. "We'll let Jin into the Cobras, ostensibly for the reasons I listed as to her usefulness on a Qasaman spy mission. But we'll also bill it as a grand experiment into whether or not women can successfully be integrated into the entire Cobra program. If it doesn't work-if the experiment's a failure-" he took a deep breath "-then I'll resign my governorship."

  It was perhaps the first time he'd ever seen genuine shock on Chandler's face.

  "You'll-what?" the other all but sputtered. "Moreau, that's-it's crazy."

  "It's what I want to do," Corwin told him evenly. "I know what Jin's capable of.

  She'll handle the job, and she'll handle it well."

  "That's practically irrelevant. Whatever happens, Priesly will claim the experiment was a failure, just to get you out. You know that."

  "He'll try to claim that, certainly," Corwin nodded. "Whether or not the claim sticks will depend on how Jin does, won't it?"

  Chandler pursed his lips, his eyes searching Corwin's face. "It'll need the approval of the entire Council, of course."

  "We all have our supporters and allies there," Corwin said. "Between yours, mine, and Priesly's, we ought to have enough. Especially if we use the secrecy of the Qasaman mission to keep the experiment on closed-access. Less of a possibility for political flak from the general populace that way."

  A lopsided smile creased Chandler's face. "You're getting cynical in your old age."

  Corwin looked back out the window again. "No," he said with a sigh. "Just getting political."

  And wondered why that should sound so like a curse in his ears.

  Chapter 6

  Late spring in Syzra District, Jin had once heard, was the most enjoyable time of the year in that particular part of Aventine... if you happened to be a duck.

  Supposedly, for the better part of three months straight, the sky over Syzra was either heavily overcast or pouring its guts out in torrents of cold rain.

  But if those stories were true, this day was a pleasant exception. The rising sun, peeking through the dense forest surrounding them at a distance on three sides, shone clear and bright through a sky that had only a few high cirrus clouds to add counterpoint to its brilliant blue. What wind there was came in short, mild gusts; and the air temperature, while chilly, was more bracing than uncomfortable. It was the kind of day Jin had always loved.

  And she felt absolutely terrible. Squinting her eyes slightly against the sunlight, she clenched her fists at her sides, tried to stand as tall as the three young men to her right, and fought hard to keep from throwing up.

  "All right, recruits, let's bend your ears forward," the man standing facing them bellowed, and Jin clamped down a little more on her rebellious gastrointestinal tract. Instructor Mistra Layn's voice, unusually rich in deep tones, wasn't helping things a bit. So much for my celebrated cast-iron gut, she thought wryly to herself, remembering the warnings everyone had given her about the normal physiological reaction to Cobra surgery. Clearly, she'd been too quick to dismiss them; now all she could hope for was that the reaction was as short-term as they'd all said it would be.

  "You already know," Layn continued, "that we've been selected for a special mission to Qasama. So I won't bore you with that harangue again. What you're probably wondering instead is why we're out here in the middle of nowhere instead of at one of the main Academy centers. Well?"

  It took a second for Jin to realize that he was asking them a question. It took a few seconds longer to realize that none of her fellow trainees were going to respond. "Sir?" she said tentatively.

  A flicker of something crossed Layn's face, but his voice was neutral enough.

  "Trainee Moreau?"

  "Sir, are we here because the mission will involve travel through forested areas of Qasama?"

  Layn cocked an eyebrow and threw a leisurely look behind him. "Why, yes-there is forest here, isn't there? There's forest at the training center in Pindaric

  District, too, as I recall. So why aren't we there instead of here?"

  Jin gritted her teeth. "I don't know, sir."

  The young man at Jin's right stirred. "Sir?"

  "Trainee Sun?"

  "Sir, the Pindaric center concentrates on teaching new Cobras how to hunt and kill spine leopards," Mander Sun said. "Our mission won't involve hunting so much as it will evasion and simply staying alive."

  "Don't the Cobras at Pindaric need to learn how to stay alive?" Layn countered.

  Her eyes locked on Layn, Jin couldn't see if Sun flushed. But from the tone of his voice she rather thought he had. "The methods of training for attack versus defense are entirely different, sir," he said. "More than that, they would be obviously different to the other trainees there. I understood this was supposed to be a s
ecret mission."

  For a long moment Layn merely looked at Sun. "More or less correct, Trainee Sun.

  The secrecy part, that is. But who says attack and defense training are different?"

  "My grandfather, sir. He was Coordinator of the Academy for twenty years."

  "Does that give you the right to stiff-neck your instructor?" Layn said coldly.

  This time there was no doubt that Sun flushed. "No, sir," he said stiffly.

  "Glad to hear it." Layn let his gaze drift to all four of them. "Because I have no intention of going to Qasama without the absolute best people available backing me up. If I don't think one or more of you measures up, I can and will bounce you-and I don't much care whether it's on the first day of training or while you're being wheeled in to have your nanocomputers implanted. All of you got that?"

  Jin swallowed, suddenly conscious of the neck-wrap computer nestling up under her jaw. If she failed her training-was deemed unsuitable, for whatever reason-the nanocomputer that would eventually be implanted beneath her brain would be a mere shadow of the true Cobra computer, disconnecting all of her newly acquired weaponry and severely limiting the power available to the servos augmenting her muscles. She would be, in short, a Ject.

  "All right, then," Layn said. "Now. I know you're all eager to find out just what those aching bodies of yours can do. For the moment, actually, that's not a hell of a lot. Those computers around your necks will give you limited servos and no weapons whatsoever. In four days-assuming adequate progress-you'll be given new neckwraps that let you activate your optical and auditory enhancers.

  After that, over a period of about four weeks, you'll get the use of your fingertip lasers, the lasers plus enhancers, the sonic weapons and arcthrower, the antiarmor laser alone, antiarmor plus everything else, and finally your preprogrammed reflexes. The purpose, you'll note, is to give you the best possible chance of learning to use your new bodies without killing yourselves or anyone else in the process."

  "Question, sir?" the trainee at the far end of the line spoke up tentatively.

  "Trainee Hariman?"

  "Sir, I was under the impression that the normal training period was six to eight weeks, not four."

  "Weren't you told this wasn't going to be normal training?" Layn countered.

  "Ah, yes, sir, I was. It just seemed to me... a little quick, that's all.

  Especially with the new weapons being introduced with this group."

  Layn cocked an eyebrow. "What new weapons are those, Trainee?"

  "Ah... I was under the impression, sir, that the Council had approved the use of short-range voltage generators for use through the arcthrower circuits."

  "You're referring, I take it, to the so-called stun-guns? You're well informed,

  Trainee Hariman."

  "Much of the weapons debate has been public knowledge, sir."

  "So it has. As it happens, though, that won't be a consideration. For the simple reason that none of you will be participating in that experiment. The Council decided you were going to be experimental enough as it was-" Layn's eyes flicked to Jin "-and there was no need to give you untried equipment as well."

  "Yes, sir," Hariman said. "That doesn't explain how we're going to learn how to be Cobras in four weeks instead of six, sir."

  "You questioning your ability as a trainee, or my ability as an instructor?"

  "Uh... neither, sir."

  "Good. Did you say something a moment ago, Trainee Todor?"

  "Sir?" The trainee standing between Hariman and Sun sounded startled.

  "The question was simple enough, Trainee. Did you say something to Trainee Sun while I was explaining why you hadn't had stun-guns installed?"

  "Uh... it was nothing, sir."

  "Repeat it."

  "I, uh..." Todor audibly took a breath. "I was just thinking that, as far as extra weaponry was concerned... uh, that Trainee Moreau could be easily implanted with a pair of turret guns."

  Layn's expression didn't change, but it seemed to Jin that his eyes flicked briefly to her breasts before rising to her face. "Trainee Moreau? Any comment?"

  A truly scathing retort had already come to mind, but it seemed better not to use it. At least not here and now. "No, sir," she said.

  "No. Well, then, I've got one." Layn's eyes flicked to the other three trainees... and abruptly his face hardened. "It's pretty clear that none of you is exactly thrilled at having a woman in the unit. Now, you've all heard the

  Council's reasons as to why they think this is worth trying, so I won't hash that over again. But I will say this.

  "To tell you the absolute truth, I don't much like it either. Special military units have always been men-only, from the Dominion of Man's old Alpha Command all the way on up to the Cobras. I don't like breaking tradition like this; I especially don't like the idea that this is a test to see if the Cobras should be opened up in the future to more women. In fact, I'll go so far as to say that

  I hope Trainee Moreau will fail. But." His gaze hardened even more, "If she fails, she is going to do it on her own. Understood? Specifically, she is not going to fail because you or I or anyone else pushed her harder than she should have been pushed. Considerations of fairness aside, I don't want anyone claiming that the test was unfair. You got all that?"

  There were three murmurs. "I asked if you got all that," Layn snapped.

  "Yes, sir," the others said in unison.

  "Good." Layn took a deep breath. "All right, then, let's get to work. That tree over there-" he pointed to their right "-is about three kilometers away. You've got six minutes to get there."

  Sun moved first, stepping behind Todor and Hariman to take the lead. Jin was right behind him, the other two trainees falling in belatedly after her. Pace yourself, girl, she warned herself, trying as best she could to let the servo motors in her legs do most of the work. Around her, the thudding of the others' footsteps filled her ears, almost drowning out the faint whine from above...

  Abruptly, the sound clicked with her consciousness, and she glanced up, eyes searching the sky. There it was, just coming into sight over the treetops to her right: a Troft-built aircar, bearing toward the complex that was serving as their training center. She twisted her head further around, seeking out Layn, but if the instructor was surprised by the craft's arrival it didn't show in his stance. Probably someone here to observe from the Directorate, she decided, shifting her attention back to the race.

  To her annoyance, she found that while she'd let the aircar's presence distract her both Todor and Hariman had managed to pass her by. It's okay, she reminded herself, picking up her speed a little. They're more concerned with making sure they don't come in last than they are with pacing themselves. That'll probably work against them. Todor, she noted, was already breathing harder than he should-either hyperventilating or else not letting his servos take as much of the load as he ought to. Either way, he should find himself in trouble before the run was over.

  Involuntarily, Jin's jaw clenched. She didn't like having to play tactical games like this, least of all against the men who were going to be her teammates on

  Qasama. But she didn't have much choice in the matter. Layn had put it very clearly: her performance here on the training field was going to determine not only whether or not she herself became a full Cobra, but also whether or not any other woman in the Cobra Worlds would ever have that same chance.

  She'd never before been much of a one to fight for universal causes; but whether she liked it or not, she was smack square in the middle of this one. In the middle, with nothing but her own stamina and determination going for her.

  And-maybe-the legacy of the Moreau family. Pace yourself, she repeated over and over to herself, using the words as a running cadence. Pace yourself...

  She was second, behind only Sun, when they at last reached the tree.

  The Troft lying on his couch by the aircar's starboard window stirred as the four trainees far below reached the tree. [The second-pla
ce human,] he said, his high-pitched catertalk almost swallowed up by the whine of the aircar's thrusters. [It was a female?]

  Beside Corwin, Governor-General Chandler harrumphed. "You're very perceptive," he said reluctantly, throwing a glare in Corwin's direction.

  "It's just an experiment," Priesly added sourly. "Pushed through by certain elements in our government-"

  [Of the four, she is the best,] the Troft said.

  Priesly's eyes narrowed. "Why do you say that?" he demanded.

  The Troft's arm membranes flexed, then relaxed back against his upper arms. [Our approach, she was the only one who noticed it,] he explained. [Her face, it sought out the sound and confirmed our identity as non-hostile before resuming her running. That sort of alertness, it is a preferred attribute for a Cobra warrior?]