Daulo shook his head. "It's the ancient root of the word mongoose. I don't know why they call the place that."
Jin felt her mouth go dry. Mongoose. A legendary Old Earth animal... whose fame lay in their ability to kill cobras. I could probably tell you, she thought morosely, why they named it that. "Any idea what exactly they're doing in there?"
Kruin's eyes were hard on her face; but, surprisingly, he didn't ask about whatever it was he saw there. "Electronics research and manufacture," he said.
"Quite a lot of it, apparently, judging by the quantities of refined metals they buy from us."
"Quantities that seem excessive for that kind of electronics manufacture?" Jin asked.
"How much metal would be excessive?" Kruin countered. "I'd need to know their output before making any comparison."
"Well, what exactly do they make? Do you have any examples here?"
Kruin shook his head. "Their goods go mainly to the cities."
Or at least that's what they tell the villages, anyway, Jin thought. "Any way to check on what their output actually is?"
Kruin and Daulo eyed each other. "We could probably get the appropriate figures for Azras," Kruin told her. "For the other cities... unlikely. It might help if we knew what it is you're looking for."
Jin took a deep breath. "The analysis group on Aventine seemed to think Mangus might be a site for missile testing."
Kruin's face went suddenly hard. "Missile testing? What kind of missiles?"
Jin held out her hands, palm upward. "That's one of the things I have to find out. But I can only think of two uses for missiles: as vehicles for space travel... or as weapons."
For a long moment Kruin stared at her in silence. "So if it's the first, you'll report that we're again a threat to you?" he said abruptly, his voice harsh.
"And the demon warriors will come here again and destroy Mangus as a warning?
Whereas if it's merely the cities planning blackmail or open warfare on the villages, you'll all smile and leave us alone?"
Jin met his gaze without flinching. "If all we wanted was to destroy you, we could do it in a hundred different ways. That's not a threat, that's simple reality. You came originally from the Dominion of Man-you must have some memories of the horrible weapons a technological world can create."
Kruin grimaced. "We do," he admitted. "It was one of the reasons our ancestors left."
"All right, then. We aren't going to try and destroy you-whether you believe that or not, it's true. It's also true that we have absolutely no interest in fighting an unnecessary war with you. We don't have the time or money or lives to waste on one, for starters. If Qasama is developing space flight... well, we ought to be able to live with that. If, that is, we can be reasonably certain that the whole planet isn't going to rise, en masse, and attack us."
Daulo hissed derisively. "Who on Qasama would be foolish enough to lead such a suicidal attack? And who would be foolish enough to follow them?"
Jin shook her head. "I don't know. That's another of the things I have to find out."
"And if Mangus is building missiles for internecine war?" Kruin persisted. "Will your people, having revived in us this ability to destroy, simply turn their backs on us?"
Jin clenched her teeth. Again there was no point in lying. "It's possible. I hope not, but our leaders could decide that way. Bear in mind, though, that with my companions dead I am this mission. If my report states that you're not a threat, and that we stand more to gain by establishing political and trade relations with your culture than by letting that culture destroy itself..." She shrugged. "Who knows what they'll do? And with my uncle on the Directorate, my voice will at least have a chance to be heard."
"This is your uncle who barely escaped from Qasama with his life?" Kruin reminded her pointedly.
She shook her head. "Different uncle. His brother, Corwin Moreau, is a governor on Aventine."
Kruin frowned. "Your family has such status and power in your world?"
A shiver ran up Jin's back. Her father under house arrest; Uncle Corwin's political power balanced precariously across her own shoulders... "For the moment, at least, it does," she sighed. "There are forces trying to change that."
"With the decision dependent on the report you bring back?" Kruin asked.
"More on how I personally do on the mission." Jin shook her head. "But never mind that. I've told you why I'm here, answered all your questions as well as I could. I need to know-now-whether you're going to allow me to complete my mission."
Kruin pursed his lips. "Keeping your identity within our family would be highly dangerous-I'm sure you realize that. If you were discovered by some other means the repercussions would be disastrous. What do you offer in exchange for this risk on our part?"
"What do you suggest?" Jin asked, trying to keep her voice steady. I did it, she thought, not quite sure she believed it. He's actually bargaining with me.
Now if only he wanted something she could deliver.
"As you're now well aware," Kruin said, "your plan to split our society into conflicting factions has succeeded only too well. Whatever Mangus turns out to be, you also know that there's already a certain amount of trouble between the cities as a group and the villages as a group. Besides the mojo question, the tension is fueled by the fact that heavy industry is concentrated in the cities, while control of resources lies mainly with the villages."
Jin nodded. It was a classical enough situation, probably played out hundreds of times throughout mankind's early days. Fleetingly, she wished she knew how those various Old Earth cultures had handled it. "I hope you don't want me to try and defuse the situation-"
"Grant me more intelligence than that," Kruin cut her off coldly. "This is our world-our politics, our culture, our people-and any advice you as an outlander could give would be less than useless."
Jin swallowed. "Excuse me. Please continue."
Kruin glared at her a moment before continuing. "We're already preparing to stand together against attempts to dominate us-the village leaders in this part of Qasama meet periodically to discuss the situation and coordinate any activities that seem called for. But there are some who see turmoil as a chance for advancement... and if there is indeed turmoil in Qasama's immediate future,
I want the Sammon family able to face it without such dangerous distractions at our backs."
Jin grimaced. "Distractions such as the Yithtra family across the Inner Green?"
"I see Daulo has told you of them," Kruin growled. "Then you'll understand that their obsession with dragging us down is something that must be dealt with. Now would seem to be a good time to do so."
"Are you asking me to murder one or more of them?" Jin asked quietly. "Because if you are, I'll tell you right now that I can't do that."
"You're a warrior, aren't you?" Daulo put in.
"Killing in warfare isn't the same as murder," she countered.
"I don't ask you to murder," Kruin shook his head. "I ask merely that you find a way to diminish the Yithtra family's influence in this village. That's the bargain I offer you, Jasmine Moreau: destruction of the Yithtra family's power in exchange for sanctuary in our household."
Jin licked her lips. It ought to be possible, surely, though at the moment she didn't have the vaguest idea how she would pull off such a trick. But then what happens? she wondered. What would that kind of power loss mean in this culture?-loss of homes, maybe, the whole family even turned out of the village?
Could it even lead directly to wholesale death, either suicide or murder?
The moral implications were bad enough... but the possible political ramifications were even worse. It would set a clear precedent of Cobra-World meddling in Qasaman affairs, with all that that would mean from both sides' perspectives. The Directorate would probably welcome the idea of rewarding cooperative Qasamans; but from the Qasaman side, Kruin's bargain smacked of high treason. Could she ethically allow herself to be a part of such a thing?
; Or did she really have any choice? "I offer you a counter proposal," she said at last. "I won't destroy the Yithtra family's power directly; but I will so enhance your own prestige and standing that they won't dare oppose you."
Kruin gazed at her, his eyes measuring. "And how do you propose to do that?" he asked.
"I don't know," she confessed. "But I'll find a way."
For a long minute the room was silent. Then, taking a deep breath, Kruin nodded gravely. "The bargain is sealed. You, Jasmine Moreau, are now under the protection of my family. Our household is yours; we shield you with our lives."
Jin swallowed. "Thank you, Kruin Sammon. I will betray neither your hospitality nor our bargain."
Kruin nodded again and rose from his cushions, Daulo following suit. "Tomorrow representatives from Mangus will be arriving at Milika to receive a shipment of our metals. You may wish to begin your investigation by observing them."
"I will do so," Jin said.
"And now-" Kruin leaned back down to his desk and touched a button "-it's time for the evening meal. Come, let us join the others."
Jin kept her expression neutral. Drugs or poison at the evening meal... "Yes," she agreed. "Let us."
Chapter 24
The insistent warble of his bedside phone snapped Corwin wide awake. Must be some trouble, was his first thought, focusing with an effort on his clock. But it wasn't the middle of the night, after all; it was only a little after six and almost time to get up anyway. Probably just Thena with some latebreaking appointment change or something, he decided, reaching to the phone and jabbing the instrument on. "Hello?"
But it wasn't Thena's face that appeared on the screen. It was Governor-General
Chandler's... and it was as grim as Corwin had ever seen the man. "You'd better get over to the starfield right away," he said without preamble. "The Southern
Cross'll be landing in about fifteen minutes, and you'll want to see what they've got."
"The Southern Cross?" Corwin frowned, a knot starting to form in his stomach.
"What's gone wrong?"
"Everything," Chandler snarled. "Just get down here."
Corwin gritted his teeth. "Yes, sir."
The phone screen went black. "Damn," Corwin muttered under his breath. Swinging his legs out of bed, he grabbed his clothes and started pulling them on. There was only one conceivable reason why the Southern Cross would be back so soon: the Qasaman mission had met with some kind of disaster.
He paused, half dressed, heart pounding in his throat. A disaster. An emergency, perhaps, requiring swift action... and long experience had showed him that committees and councils weren't built for speed.
Most jobs are done, the old couplet came back to him, by committees of one.
Gritting his teeth, he reached back to the phone and punched a number.
He arrived at the starfield twenty minutes later to find that Chandler had sealed off one of the conference rooms in the entrypoint building. Two other
Directorate members-Telek and Priesly-had arrived before him... and one look at their faces told him that the situation was even worse than he'd feared.
He was right.
Captain Koja's report was short, partly because there wasn't much to say and partly because the enhanced telephoto on the wall display behind him said it all anyway. "We elected not to wait and see if he found the survival pod," the captain concluded, "under the assumption that we could serve him better by getting back and sounding the alarm." He looked at Chandler. "That's really all
I have, sir. Do you have any questions?"
Chandler asked something and was answered, but Corwin didn't really hear any of it. A horrible shimmer of unreality seemed to have fallen between him and the rest of the room. Between him and the rest of the universe. That last image of
Jin as she'd waved to them from the Southern Cross's entryway hovered ghost-like in front of his face... in front of the computer-enhanced image of the shuttle's death still displayed on the conference-room wall. I sent her there, the thought swirled like a bitterly cold tornado through his mind. I pushed it through. I forced them to make her a Cobra. And then I sent her off to Qasama... all in the name of thwarting political enemies. In the name of politics.
Someone was calling his name. He looked over to see Chandler eyeing him. "Yes?"
"I asked if you had any comments or suggestions," the governor-general repeated evenly.
For a moment Corwin locked eyes with him. Chandler returned the gaze steadily, without so much as flinching. It was the statesman look that Corwin had seen on him so often... and always hated. It inevitably appeared at those times when
Chandler wanted to appear above politics, or to disclaim all responsibility for something he'd had a hand in. So that's how it's going to be here, too, is it?
Corwin thought silently toward that look. Not going to accept any more responsibility than you absolutely have to? Well, we'll just see about that.
But first there was a question he had to ask. Shifting his eyes to Koja, he took a deep breath. "Captain, is there...?" He licked his lips and tried again. "Is there any indication as to... which of the Cobras might have survived?"
A muscle in Koja's cheek twitched. "I'm sorry, Governor, but there isn't," he said, almost gently. "We've gone over the data a hundred times in the past eight days. There just isn't any way to tell."
Corwin nodded, feeling the others' eyes on him. "Then it could be Jin who's still alive down there, couldn't it?"
Koja shrugged fractionally. "It could be her, yes. Could be all the Cobras, for all we can tell."
No false hope, Corwin warned himself. But the admonition wasn't serious, and he knew it. Without hope, he could already feel his mind turning inward again, away from the wave of guilt threatening to overwhelm him. But with hope... that same wave could be turned outward. Turned outward to claim vengeance for what had happened to his niece. Alive or dead, he owed her that much. "For the moment," he said, looking back at Chandler, "we can skip over any recriminations as to why the Southern Cross wasn't carrying any emergency equipment for just such a disaster as this. Right now our first priority is to get a rescue team together and out to Qasama as quickly as possible. What steps have you taken toward that end?"
"I've spoken to Coordinator Maung Kha," Chandler replied. "The Academy directors are gong to assemble a list for us."
"Which will be ready when?" Corwin asked.
Priesly shifted in his seat. "You want it fast or you want it good?" he asked
Corwin.
"We want it both," Telek snapped before Corwin could respond.
"I'm sure you do, Governor-" Priesly began.
"Mr. Chandler," Telek cut him off, "do I assume I've been included in this council of war because of my first-hand expertise on Qasaman matters? Fine. Then kindly pay attention to that expertise when I tell you that Moreau's right. If you want your Cobra back alive, minutes could literally count. The Qasamans are fast and smart, and once they make their move they don't leave a whole hell of a lot of room to maneuver in."
"I understand," Chandler said with clearly forced patience. "But as Governor
Priesly points out, to do the job properly takes a certain amount of time."
"That depends on how far into complicated channels you insist on dragging the process," Corwin told him.
"Channels exist for a reason," Priesly growled. "The Academy has the computers and lists you'd need to find the best people for the job. Unless you'd rather just toss some ragtag collection of Cobras together on your own?"
"I won't have to," Corwin said calmly. "It's already being done."
All eyes turned to him. "What's that supposed to mean?" Chandler asked cautiously.
"It means that before I left home this morning I called Justin and told him something had gone wrong with the mission."
"You what?" Priesly snarled. "Moreau-"
"Shut up," Chandler cut him off. "And...?"
"And I told him to organize a rescue mi
ssion," Corwin said calmly. "He should have a list ready in an hour or so."
For a long moment the room was filled with a brittle silence. "You've overstepped your bounds rather badly," Chandler said at last. "I could have you removed from office for that."
"I realize that," Corwin nodded. "One other thing: Justin will also be leading the team."
Priesly's mouth fell open. "Justin Moreau is under house arrest," he bit out.
"In case you've forgotten, there are charges of assault pending against him."
"Then those charges will have to be summarily dropped, won't they?"
"Oh, of course," Priesly snarled. "What, you expect us to just roll over-?"