Cobra Bargain

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 secret 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-place 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?]

"It is indeed," Chandler admitted. "Well. At any rate, now that you've seen the trainees-at least from a distance-we'll be heading over to the special camp where this proposed mission is being headquartered. You'll be able to examine all the Qasaman data there, see why it is we think there's something happening that we ought to investigate."

The Troft seemed to consider that. [This information, you would not be giving it to me without need. What is it you want?]

Chandler took a deep breath. "In a nutshell: transport. We can use one of our own starships to get the team from here to Qasama, of course, but we haven't yet got a safe way for them to get from orbit to ground. We would like to borrow a

Troft military shuttle for that purpose."

"We don't want to land a full starship," Priesly put in. "Not only because of the danger of detection-"

[A vehicle with a stardrive, you do not want it to fall into Qasaman hands,]

Speaker One cut him off. [My intelligence, do not insult it, Governor Priesly.]

Priesly shut up, a pained look on his face, and for a moment Corwin could almost feel sorry for him. There'd been no anger in Speaker One's comment-merely a desire to save time-but Priesly hadn't dealt with this particular representative of the Tlos'khin'fahi demesne long enough to know his personality. Speaker One had been an interdemesne trader before being given the Cobra Worlds liaison post four years ago, and Corwin had long since noted that such Trofts had an almost supernatural control over their tempers. Not surprising, given the loose and often combative relationships that existed between the hundreds of demesnes that made up the Troft Assemblage. A trader who got into verbal fights with his customers every third time he was out of his home demesne wouldn't be a trader for long.

"Governor Priesly meant no harm, Speaker One," Chandler spoke up into the conversational void, looking pleased himself at Priesly's discomfiture. "The tactical reasons for borrowing such a landing craft are of course obvious. The financial reasons, I imagine, are also obvious to you."

[Such a shuttle, you cannot afford to buy.]

Chandler nodded. "That's it exactly. Though we're in far better shape now than we were thirty years ago when this whole Qasaman mess began, even now our budget will only support the cost of the mission itself-that is, the personnel, basic equipment, and specialized training. You'll remember we're still paying off the last full starship we bought from you; we can't afford to buy a shuttle, too."

[The Tlos'khin'fahi demesne, why should it lend you this craft? We are far from

Qasama, with little at stake should they escape their world.]

Translation: the bargaining had begun. "We don't necessarily want the

Tlos'khin'fahi demesne itself to provide the shuttle," Corwin put in before

Chandler could answer. "However, as our main trading partner, the health of our economy should be of some concern to you... and if our buying a shuttle would hurt that economy, it would have at least a minor effect on you."

[The Baliu'ckha'spmi demesne, would it not have more of a reason to provide you a shuttle?]

Chandler threw a glance at Corwin. "Probably," he conceded. "The problem is that... the Baliu'ckha'spmi demesne might infer the wrong thing from such a request."

[You refer to the trade by which you obtained the New Worlds?]

"Basically," Chandler said heavily. "The agreement was that we would neutralize the Qasaman threat for them, after all. If they decide this means that Qasama wasn't properly neutralized... well, we don't really want to open that can of snakes."

The Troft's arm membranes fluttered again as he sorted through the idiom. [The reason for bringing me out here in secret, it is also because of this concern?]

"You don't miss much," Chandler admitted. "Yes, we didn't want any word of this leaking out to other demesne representatives if we could possibly avoid it."

For a moment Speaker One was silent. The aircar began a leisurely turn, and

Corwin glanced out the window. Below them, nestled in an artificial clearing, was the small logging complex that had been temporarily taken over by the Cobra

Academy for the special training course. [The question, I will bring it to my demesne-lord's attention,] Speaker One said as the aircar dipped toward a scarred landing square near the main building's entrance. [Some sort of trade, it will of course be necessary.]

"Of course," Chandler nodded, sounding relieved. "We'll be happy to consider any request he suggests."

[My demesne-lord, he will also remember that the original pacification plan was created by the late Governor Jonny Moreau,] the Troft continued. [If I could inform him that one of Governor Jonny Moreau's line would be planning this mission as well, it would give more weight to my arguments.]

Chandler threw Corwin a surprised look. "Why?" he asked.

[Continuity in the affairs of war, it is as valued as in the affairs of business,] the Troft said-rather coolly, Corwin thought. [Such a thing,

Governor-General Chandler, it is possible?]

Chandler took a deep breath. From the expression on his face, he was clearly envisioning the political flap were he to reinstate Justin to the Academy while still under a cloud from the Monse shooting... "I'm afraid, Speaker One,"

Priesly spoke up tartly, "the Moreau family is no longer directly involved with such military planning-"

"Fortunately, that won't be a problem," Corwin interrupted him. "The human female you saw in the clearing a few minutes ago-the one you thought was the best of the trainees? She is Jasmine Moreau, daughter of Cobra Justin Moreau and

Governor Jonny Moreau's granddaughter."

Priesly sputtered; Chandler cut him off with a hand signal. "Will that be adequate, Speaker One?" the governor-general asked.

There was a slight bump as the aircar touched down. [It will indeed,] the Troft said. [Your data, I will now be pleased to study it.]

Chandler exhaled quietly. "Certainly. Follow me."