Jody hissed between her teeth. It seemed ridiculous that Filho and Castenello wouldn’t take a threat like that seriously.

  On the other hand, she, Rashida, and Plaine were under just as much suspicion as Merrick and the Caelian Cobras. Maybe Filho would start by simply asking questions.

  At which point, he would likely be the first to die.

  “Fine,” she growled, heading for the pump room. “We’ll do it your way. Come on, let’s get your tunic.”

  Twenty seconds later she had the welds burned off the door. “Here,” she said, handing Plaine the tunic.

  “I’ll be damned,” he muttered, eyeing her as he pulled it on. “I suppose I should have guessed, with your mother and all. Kemp knows?”

  “Of course.”

  “Too bad,” Plaine said. “A secret weapon would have been nice to have. Come on—I think I can find us a shortcut back to the conference room.”

  * * *

  It had been seventy-three minutes, Merrick noted. The hour Filho had promised them had now come and gone.

  Typical lying Dominion humans.

  But it looked like things were finally on the move. Castenello had returned in the company of a young man wearing lieutenant’s insignia and a name plate that read Meekan. Too junior to be one of the major officers; probably someone’s aide. The captain’s, maybe? That might indicate that the captain was on his way.

  Merrick frowned. On the other hand, if the captain had been deposed was he really the captain anymore? If not, did they even need to wait for him?

  He looked across the room at Kemp. The other Cobra was talking to his friend, Smitty, but his eyes kept flicking between the main hatch at the back of the room and the smaller, service-type door by one end of the long table. Merrick wasn’t absolutely sure Kemp was an ally, but the fact that he and that Marine, Plaine, had gone off with Kjoic to steal a ship suggested that the Drims had caught them both while they were out of everyone else’s sight. That had been the plan, anyway.

  Too bad the Drims hadn’t had the opportunity to turn everyone. Two more Cobras could have been extremely handy to their mission. And of course, it would have been wonderful for Merrick to have his own sister fighting at his side.

  He smiled. Only two female Cobras in a hundred years of Cobra Worlds history, and both of them in his family. Too bad Jody wouldn’t also have the distinction of being in the select group that led the way to the ultimate defeat of the Dominion of Man.

  Merrick would have to bring that honor to the Moreau and Broom families by himself.

  The main hatch again slid open, and Acting Captain Filho and another man wearing commander’s insignia walked in, another Marine close by the commander’s side. The second man’s name plate was out of Merrick’s view, but the fact he had a guard tagging along implied that he was First Officer Ling Garrett, who’d been deposed along with the captain.

  The man turned slightly, bringing his plate into view, and Merrick keyed his telescopics. Commander Garrett, all right.

  Which left only Captain Moreau himself still unaccounted for.

  Merrick frowned. Captain Barrington Moreau. Another member of the Moreau/Broom family, distant in terms of light-years, not so distant in terms of blood.

  Sad; but there was nothing Merrick could do about it. Family or not, Barrington Moreau had chosen the side of the Dominion. What happened now was on his own head.

  Filho walked to the far side of the table and sat down beside Castenello, and the two men began a conversation that pointedly excluded both Lieutenant Meekan and Commander Garrett. Coordinating their plan for the interrogation, no doubt.

  Almost time.

  Merrick let his eyes drift around the room, noting the Marine guards’ parrot-gun epaulets and setting his first group of target locks. His hands were still shackled behind his back, but he already had the edge of the chair back lined up with the next patch on his right arm. A quick twitch of his arm should send the drug into his bloodstream and enable him to do what had to be done.

  Turning his gaze back to Filho and Castenello, he prepared his mind for combat.

  * * *

  A debriefing, Castenello had labeled the meeting in the Dorian’s data stream.

  Barrington knew better. It would be a full-bore, flat-out interrogation. An interrogation, moreover, with the unspoken but undeniable goal of making the prisoners look guilty of whatever crimes and misdemeanors Castenello could think of to throw at them.

  And, by extension, to throw at Barrington himself.

  It would be painful. It might mark the beginning of the end of his career.

  Or maybe not. Barrington’s decisions and actions had resulted in Merrick Broom being located and rescued. The Marine and armed courier ship he’d gambled had returned safely. Above all, Merrick had gathered vital information on a hitherto unknown Troft plot against the Dominion. Castenello’s patron was powerful, but against all that even he might not be able to bring Barrington down.

  And if he did, Barrington would still have the satisfaction of knowing that everything he’d done here had worked out for the best.

  “Captain Moreau?” a voice came from behind him.

  Barrington paused and turned, his Marine guard, Sergeant Oponn, stopping as well. A Marine and a young woman were hurrying toward them. A quick check of the data stream identified them as Gunnery Sergeant Fitzgerald Plaine and the Qasaman woman, Rashida Vil.

  He frowned, taking another look at the stream. Plaine had been ordered to sickbay; Vil had been sent to the Women’s Section. What were they doing out and about, especially without an escort?

  Oponn had obviously checked the stream and arrived at the same question. “Hold it,” he ordered, stepping between the newcomers and Barrington. “Who let you two out?”

  Plaine ignored the challenge. “You’re in danger, Captain,” he said as he and Vil continued forward. “One of the Cobras has been programmed by the Trofts back there to attack you, your officers, and your ship.”

  Barrington felt his throat tighten. Maybe the jury was still out on that everything working out for the best thing. “Who told you that?” he asked.

  “No one.” Plaine held up his bare right arm, revealing a line of burn marks. “They gave me the drug, too, along with the conditioning. But I’ve been cured.”

  “Really,” Oponn said, holding out his hand, palm outward. “No closer—just stand right there. Captain?”

  Barrington studied Plaine and Vil as the two of them came to a reluctant halt a few meters away. They looked completely sincere, which of course meant nothing at all. “Let’s assume what you’re saying is true,” he said. “What do you expect me to do about it?”

  “We want you to stop it, sir,” Plaine said, sounding surprised that Barrington would even have to ask.

  “Jody Broom has gone to the conference room,” Vil added. “She’ll try to get the other officers out without alerting Cobra Kemp that we’re aware of his purpose. But we fear the officers will not obey her request.”

  “But you could call them out right now, sir,” Plaine said. “Log an order for them to meet you out in the corridor, and we can sort through it once they’re out of danger.”

  “I see your point,” Barrington murmured. It might indeed get them out of danger.

  It might also get them out in the corridor where they would be sitting ducks for Plaine himself. The Marine had freely admitted that he’d been drugged, and Barrington had only his word that he was no longer under that influence.

  Certainly there’d been no signs of trouble in the data stream. Nor were there any reports of confrontation or violence.

  Unfortunately, what Plaine didn’t realize was that there was nothing Barrington could do about it even if he’d wanted to. Once the Enquiry Board had removed him from command position, the ability to upload orders to the data stream had also been taken away. “Your concerns are duly noted,” he said. “Let’s go take a look.”

  “Sir, I strongly suggest you reconsider,” Plaine said, taking another step forward.

  “One more step and I drop you,” Oponn warned.

  “You have a choice, Gunnery Sergeant Plaine,” Barrington said as Plaine again reluctantly stopped. “You can come with us—quietly—or you can go back to sickbay where you belong.” He looked at Vil. “And Ms. Vil will be returned to the Women’s Section as ordered.”

  Plaine’s jaw clenched, but he nodded. “Thank you, sir. We’ll come with you.”

  “Good,” Barrington said. Turning his back on them, he resumed walking. Unwarranted, unproven, and ultimately untruthful rumors were the stuff of legend aboard Dominion warships.

  Just the same…

  “Sergeant?” Barrington murmured to Oponn as they headed toward the conference room.

  “Sir?”

  “I think it would be a good idea to raise ship-wide Marine alert status,” Barrington said. “Just in case.”

  “I’ll make the recommendation, sir,” Oponn said. “Unfortunately, there’s no guarantee the colonel will accept it.”

  “Especially because he’ll assume the request is coming from me?”

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Oponn’s lip twitch. “Yes, sir. Commander Castenello made it clear…you understand, sir.”

  “I do,” Barrington said. “But if there’s a problem, we need to sound the alarm.”

  “Yes, sir,” Oponn said. “Upgrade request is in the stream.”

  Barrington nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Yes, sir.” Oponn hesitated. “And thank you, sir, for being willing to risk all to bring back one of our own.”

  Barrington glanced over his shoulder at Plaine and Vil. “You’re welcome, Sergeant. Let’s hope we don’t live to regret it.”

  * * *

  Plaine had assured Jody that the service passageway would be deserted, with zero chance of running into anyone along the way. She’d thanked him and headed in, firmly expecting he would be wrong.

  Which made her unhindered arrival at the conference room a few minutes later both surprising and anticlimactic. Apparently, data stream maintenance and personnel information was very detailed.

  Now came the tricky part. Bracing herself, she tapped the hatch release.

  The room was filling up nicely, she saw as she stepped inside. Acting Captain Filho and Commander Castenello had returned, and had brought another pair of officers with them. One of them was Lieutenant Meekan, the officer Jody had met briefly back on Qasama; the other’s name plate said Garrett. Garrett had a Marine standing behind him, apparently a guard, and there were eight other Marines flanking the main hatchway in the back and positioned along the side walls. Across the table from the Dominion officers, their backs to the main entrance, were Merrick, Kemp, and Smitty, sitting right where Jody had left them.

  Kemp, Jody noted, was half turned in his chair, either keeping watch on the Marines at the back of the room or watching for Captain Moreau to make his grand entrance, and Jody could see that his wrists were shackled behind his back and the back of his chair. Smitty and Merrick, no doubt, were under similar restraints.

  A reasonable precaution. But not nearly as secure as Filho probably thought. With Kemp’s hands free, he could curl his fingertip lasers around and cut straight through the metal and plastic binding his wrists. In a couple of seconds, maybe less, he would be free.

  Which meant if Captain Moreau came in before Jody could make her move, he was dead. Hopefully, Plaine and Rashida could keep him away long enough.

  Not that Jody’s own entrance wasn’t grand in its own way. All eyes turned to her as she walked in, including Kemp’s. “Hello, everyone,” she greeted the room casually as the hatch closed behind her. “I hope I’m not late.”

  “What are you doing here?” Castenello demanded.

  “I’m here for the hearings,” she said, watching Kemp as she headed toward the table. Throughout the voyage from Qasama, she’d seen a hint of something cross his face every time she came into his presence. She wasn’t ready to put any kind of label on the expression, or to speculate as to whether there were any particular emotions behind it, except to mark it as a sign of recognition and appreciation.

  Only now, here in the Dorian’s conference room, there was nothing. Kemp had clearly noted her arrival, but there was no spark, not of affection, friendship, or anything else.

  More ominously, his expression reminded her of the way he’d been when she first met him on Caelian. His face, his eyes, and his body language were those of a man who knew that death was all around him. A man fully prepared to meet that death head-on, and deliver some of his own.

  Jody hadn’t wanted to believe Plaine’s story that Kemp had been turned. Now, down deep, she knew he’d been right.

  “What are you doing?” Filho asked, sounding more confused than angry. “Who ordered you here?”

  “No one,” Jody said. She shifted her eyes to Smitty, got the spark of recognition that she hadn’t gotten from Kemp. At least he seemed okay. She looked at Merrick.

  And felt her foot suddenly falter.

  There was no friendly recognition from her brother. In fact, he had much the same expression as Kemp.

  She recovered her pace and continued across the room, keying her infrareds. Plaine had had the drug’s telltale heightened facial heat. Kemp also had it.

  So did Merrick.

  A hard knot twisted into her stomach. Of course Merrick had been drugged. He’d been on the planet for weeks. Of course the Drims would have made sure to drug him before sending him back. How in the Worlds had she not seen that coming?

  Because she hadn’t wanted to. Because she was so relieved to get her brother back that some core part of her had refused to accept the possibility that the man she’d rescued wasn’t the man she’d come here to find.

  And with that, suddenly everything had changed. She’d come to the conference room to rescue the Dominion officers, knowing that if she had to hurt Kemp, she would have to brace herself and do it.

  Kemp was one of the closest friends she’d ever had. But he was just a close friend.

  Merrick was her brother.

  Family had always been the most important thing to Jody. Family was why she’d defied the Dominion back on Aventine. Family was why she’d come on this mission, risking trouble with not just the Dominion, but also with the Qasamans and her own people. Family was why she’d become a Cobra. Merrick’s life, Merrick’s safety, had to be her first priority.

  Only he couldn’t be. For once, he couldn’t be. There was more at stake here than one single person. Any single person.

  She continued on, her feet running on autopilot, trying to think. Filho and Castenello, as the most senior officers present, would probably be the assassins’ secondary targets after Captain Moreau. The Marines lined up against the walls seemed alert enough, and Jody had already seen how effective their laser epaulets could be, especially in close quarters. But like the ones she’d encountered on Caelian these seemed a little too confident in their superiority over Cobra technology. Behind the Cobras, between the table and the main entrance—and the bulk of the Marine force—were twelve additional chairs lined up in two rows of six each, apparently there to accommodate visitors or observers. They looked to be the same type as the ones at the table, with a full 360-degree swivel but also set on slender columns bolted to the deck. They were big enough to crouch behind, and a laser burst to the central column should cut them loose, but Jody guessed they would be of only minimal use for either defense or attack.

  Which left the table everyone was currently grouped around. It was solid-looking, more so than the chairs surrounding it. Still, the Dorian was a warship, and she’d been aboard enough spacecraft to know that weight and mass were important considerations. That suggested the table was probably no stronger or heavier than it had to be to support papers, small electronics, and people’s elbows. The fact that it was supported by a single curved pillar anchoring its center to the deck also suggested it was quite light, possibly to the point of being flimsy. Again, no use as a shield against laser fire.

  In theory, she could get close enough to use her sonic or her stunner and end this before it even began. But Kemp and Merrick both knew she was a Cobra. Would they let her get in range, even if they didn’t know she knew what had happened to them?

  Or maybe they did know. Maybe they could read it in her face, the same way she could read the treason in theirs.

  But she had to try. A few more steps…

  At the rear of the room the hatch abruptly opened. Jody got a glimpse of a Marine and a Dominion officer outside—

  And suddenly, it all went to hell.

  Kemp and Merrick leaped out of their seats, turning their backs to each other and in perfect coordination firing brief bursts of antiarmor laser at each other’s shackles. Jody charged toward the table, firing her sonic at them as their hands came free, hoping she could at least slow them down.

  But she was either still too far away or the Drim drug gave them extra protection against all sorts of attacks. Both men shrugged off the effects as if nothing had happened and continued their spins, Merrick turning toward the rear hatch, Kemp turning toward the table where Filho and Castenello were trying to slide sideways out of their seats.

  But the officers’ reaction was too little too late. Kemp raised his fingertip lasers—

  Jody braked to a halt between the officers, dropping into a crouch and shoving both of them violently to the sides out of Kemp’s sight and line of fire.

  And as she grabbed the edge of the table with both hands, the room erupted into chaos.

  Laser fire was everywhere: Kemp and Merrick firing at the Marines, both at their epaulets and at the men themselves; the Marines returning fire; the Cobras dodging and ducking and rolling around and through the lines of seats; the Marines crouching or ducking in place; the Cobras systematically dropping the Dominion forces to the deck; the Marines grimly standing their ground, seemingly refusing to accept that two men could be doing this to them.