Timothy Zahn - Cobra Bargain

Chandler gritted his teeth. "It can be managed. I suppose you'll want a full pardon?"

"That or a formal dropping of the charges. Whichever you and Mr. Priesly decide to work out."

He started for the door, but Chandler stopped him. "You realize, of course," the governor-general said darkly, "that as of right now you've taken this entire rescue mission onto your own head. If it fails-for any reason-it'll be you who bears the brunt of that failure."

"I understand," Corwin said between tight lips. "I also understand that if it succeeds Mr. Priesly and his associates will do their best to make sure I get as little of the credit as possible."

"You understand politics very well," Telek murmured. "I'm almost sorry for you."

Corwin looked at her. "Fortunately, I understand family loyalty, too. And know which one's more important."

He nodded to Chandler and left.

Corwin had seen Justin's organizational skills many times in the past; but even so he was astonished by the speed with which his brother got the rescue team assembled in Capitalia. By eight that evening-barely fifteen hours after the

Southern Cross had reentered Aventine's system-the Dewdrop was loaded and ready to lift.

"You sure you've got everything you'll need?" Corwin asked as he and Justin stood together a little way from the Dewdrop, watching the last load of equipment disappear into the cargo hatch.

"We'll make do," Justin replied, his voice glacially calm.

Corwin threw him a sideways glance. For a man who'd just lost a daughter-either dead or captive-Justin was far too calm, and it was making Corwin more than a little nervous. Whatever the other was feeling about his daughter's fate, it wasn't healthy to keep it bottled up forever. Somehow, it was going to have to come out... and if Justin was saving up the anger to dump on the Qasamans, it would be a very bloody purging indeed.

"Something?" Justin asked, his eyes still on the loading.

Corwin pursed his lips. "Just wondering about your people," he improvised. "You put the list together pretty quickly-you still sure they're the ones you want?"

"You've seen the profiles," Justin said. "Four vets of the last Qasaman mission, eight young but experienced Cobras with impressive spine leopard hunting records."

"But without any military training," Corwin pointed out.

"We've got six days to change that," his brother reminded him.

"Yeah." Corwin took a deep breath; but Justin got in the next word.

"I don't think I thanked you yet for getting Chandler to let me off those trumped-up charges," he said calmly.

"No problem," Corwin shrugged. "They didn't have a lot of choice, actually."

Justin nodded, agreement or simple acknowledgment. "I also appreciate what you've done in putting your neck on this fresh block for me. If I'd had to sit around for the next two weeks... it would've been pretty hard. At least this way there's something I can do."

"Yeah. Well... I expect you know that if Jin's-if she didn't make it, I mean... that extracting vengeance from the Qasamans isn't going to help any."

"That depends on what happened to her, doesn't it?" Justin countered. "If she died in the crash... well, I'll hold the Trofts partly to blame for that.

They're the ones who claimed their shuttle would get through the Qasamans' detectors. But if Jin was captured-" His face hardened. "Teaching the Qasamans a lesson won't bring Jin back, no. But it might prevent someone else's child from dying at their hands."

Corwin bit at his lip. "Just remember that you have two other daughters," he reminded Justin quietly. "Make sure you come back to them, all right?"

Justin nodded solemnly, and his lip twitched in a faint smile. "Don't worry,

Corwin; the Qasamans won't even know what hit them." Across the way, the

Dewdrop's cargo hatch swung shut with a muffled thud. "Well, that's it-time to go. Hold the fort here, okay?"

He gave Corwin a brief, almost perfunctory hug, and a moment later had vanished up the ramp into the Dewdrop's main entryway.

They won't even know what hit them. Justin's statement echoed through his mind... and standing there alone, Corwin shivered at the lie in those words.

Justin would make sure the Qasamans knew what had hit them, all right. What had hit them, and why.

And he wondered if he'd now sent his brother to die on Qasama. Just as he'd done his niece.

Jin had never been one to make snap judgments of people. But in the case of

Radig Nardin she was severely tempted to make an exception.

"Overbearing sort, isn't he?" she murmured to Daulo as they stood a short distance from where Nardin was loudly supervising the loading of his metals.

"Yes," Daulo said tightly. His eyes and most of his attention, she saw, were on

Nardin; his arms, at his sides, were rigid.

Jin licked her lips. The tension in the air around them seemed almost thick enough to cast a shadow, and her stomach was beginning to tighten in sympathetic reaction. Whatever it was that was happening here, things seemed to be rapidly building up to a head, and she found herself easing away from Daulo just in case she suddenly needed room to maneuver. Nardin's two drivers and aides were somewhere off to the side... there. Nowhere near cover, should Nardin decide to pick a fight-

"Stop!" Daulo snapped.

Jin whipped her eyes back to Nardin. Almost leisurely, he turned around to face them, his hand raised in striking pose above one of the sweating Sammon workers.

His gaze flicked measuringly across Daulo's clothing, returned to his face. "You tolerate insubordinate attitudes in your workers, Master Sammon?" he called.

"If and when such insubordination is seen," Daulo said evenly, "it will be punished. And I will do the punishing."

For a moment the two young men locked eyes. Then, breathing something inaudible,

Nardin lowered his arm. Turning his back on Daulo, he stalked a few meters away from the loading area.

Jurisdictional dispute? Jin wondered. Apparently. Or else Nardin just liked going out of his way to irritate people. "You all right?" Jin asked Daulo quietly.

The other took a deep breath, seemed to relax a bit. "Yes," he said, exhaling in a hiss. "Some people just can't handle power this young."

Jin glanced at him, wondering if he noticed the irony of those words coming from a nineteen-year-old heir. "Radig Nardin is high in the Mangus hierarchy?" he asked.

"His father, Obolo Nardin, runs the place."

"Ah. Then Mangus is a family-run operation like yours?"

"Of course." Daulo seemed puzzled that she'd even have to ask such a question.

Across the way, the last few crates were being loaded onto the trunk. "How often does Mangus need these shipments?" she asked Daulo.

He considered. "About every three weeks. Why?"

She nodded at the truck. "Riding inside a crate might be the simplest way for me to get inside Mangus."

Daulo hissed thoughtfully between his teeth. "Only if you had time to get out before they locked all the crates away somewhere."

"Do they do that?"

"I don't know-I've never been there. Mangus always sends someone to pick up their shipments."

"Is that normal?"

"It is for Mangus. Though if you're right about what they're doing in there, it makes sense for them not to let villagers in."

The qualifier caught Jin's attention. "Only villagers? Can city people get in?"

"Regularly," Daulo nodded. "Mangus brings in work parties from Azras every two to three weeks for one-week periods. Simple assembly work, I gather."

"I don't understand," Jin frowned. "You mean they import their entire labor force?"

"Not the entire force, no. They have some permanent workers, most of them probably Nardin family members. I assume their assembly work comes in spurts and they'd rather not keep people there when they're not needed."