“I expect Governor Uy would prefer to keep that a surprise,” Paul said as he eased himself onto the gurney. In theory, his muscles should be getting stronger as they adapted to handling his body’s extra weight. In practice, though, the advanced anemia induced by his bone laminae put a severe limit on how much exertion he could manage before fatigue set in. “But I do want to thank you for not uselessly sacrificing your men.”

  “As well as sacrificing the Caelians in Stronghold?”

  “That, too,” Paul said. “I’m sure there’s a better and more peaceful solution to all this than an all-out invasion.”

  “There’s certainly a more useful way for us to spend our time,” Santores agreed, falling into step beside Paul as the medic guided the gurney through the hatch into the corridor.

  Paul frowned. There’d been something in the commodore’s voice…“I presume you’re talking about negotiation?”

  “That may come later,” Santores said. “While you were battling roseberries and repurposed Troft lasers we had a visitor: the Iris.” He looked down at Paul. “One of the Dorian’s courier ships.”

  Paul felt his stomach tighten. No. Oh, no. “Qasama?”

  “Exactly,” Santores said with grim satisfaction. “Captain Moreau’s located the system, and made initial contact with the locals. As soon as the Iris reaches us and has been refueled, we’ll be leaving.”

  Paul nodded, determined not to let his true feelings show. After everything the Cobra Worlds had been through—after all he himself had been through—and now all of it for nothing. “Well, good luck to you,” he said, keeping his tone civil. “Bear in mind that they won’t be nearly as docile or as easy to conquer as Aventine was.”

  Santores shook his head. “Aventine hasn’t been conquered, Cobra Broom.” But his eyes drifted away from Paul’s as he said it, and there were fresh tension lines in his cheeks.

  “You don’t seem convinced of that,” Paul suggested.

  The tension lines deepened. “There’s been some trouble.”

  “I know,” Paul bit out. “I was there.”

  “I mean more trouble.” Santores looked at Paul, then looked away again. “In fact, I may send you back to Capitalia with the Iris to see if you can help mediate things.”

  “Because that worked so well here?”

  “Touché,” Santores conceded. “Though to be fair, I didn’t really give you much of a chance with Uy.”

  “Nice of you to at least point that out. What makes you think Captain Lij Tulu will actually listen to anything I have to say?”

  “I’m thinking more along the lines of the Aventinian Cobras listening to you.” Santores pursed his lips. “More specifically, your wife and son.”

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Paul had to smile at that one. “You are joking, I presume,” he said. “If they’re on any kind of war footing—”

  “This is not a war!” Santores snapped. “This is insurgency containment. Nothing more.”

  Paul waited until they’d gone another two steps down the corridor. “Fine,” he said. “If they’re on any kind of insurgency containment footing, they’ll know better than to accept any deal or negotiation that involves a hostage.”

  “You wouldn’t be a hostage.”

  “Wouldn’t I? Lij Tulu would just set me down in Capitalia and let me go? Free and clear and unmonitored?”

  “I’d give him orders to that effect.”

  “And he’d be required to obey them?”

  “Of course.”

  “Even if he decided the situation warranted action outside those orders?” Paul persisted. “Because if that’s not legal then you’re telling me that Colonel Reivaro had explicit orders permitting his men to open fire on Archway’s Cobras even if they didn’t fire first.”

  Santores threw him another glare. “Of course the commander on the scene has final authority,” he growled reluctantly. “Just as a field officer always has responsibility for making sure his men are in the safest and most defensible position possible, consistent with their orders and mission.”

  “Right,” Paul said. “In other words, once you leave for Qasama, Lij Tulu can do anything he damn well pleases.”

  They’d made it to the elevator before Santores spoke again. “If you go back to Aventine, you may be able to save the lives of your family,” he said as they entered the car. “If you go to Qasama, they’ll be on their own. I’ll let you decide.”

  “How about we add a third option?” Paul suggested. “We both go back to Aventine, you fix whatever mess Lij Tulu has made, and then we both go to Qasama.”

  Santores shook his head. “I’m pushing my timing to the limit as it is. If we’re going to get Qasama ready in time, we have to start right away.”

  “What are we getting them ready for?”

  “The same thing we’re getting Aventine ready for,” Santores said. “A Troft incursion.”

  Paul felt his stomach tighten. “Thanks, but we’ve already done that.”

  “Not like this,” Santores said grimly. “The last invasion was for conquest. This one will be for annihilation.” He looked down at Paul. “And like it or not, we’re the only ones who can keep that from happening. Keep that in mind when you think you want to fight against us.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Easy, now,” Corwin said from over Jin’s shoulder. “Use the narrow probe—that one there. Work it between the neckband and the mold, just enough to break the air seal. Relax—you’re not going to lose it.”

  Clenching her teeth, feeling sweat running down her face from the heat of the kiln on the table to her left, Jin got a grip on the probe and placed its tip where her uncle had indicated. Putting as much pressure on it as she dared, she pried a small gap into existence—

  And with a soft pop, the neckband section came free.

  Jin grabbed for it as it dropped toward the table. But Corwin was already in position and caught the precious piece of freshly glazed ceramic on a thick hot pad. “There you go,” he said approvingly as he set the pad carefully on the side table along with the others. “Perfect.”

  “Semi-perfect, anyway,” Jin said, wiping her sleeve across her forehead and keying in her telescopics for a closer look at her latest masterpiece. At the spot where she’d dug in the probe she could see a slight imperfection. “What about that notch?” she asked, pointing. “Is it going to be a problem?”

  “Shouldn’t,” Corwin said. “It’s not going to create a fracture line, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “You sure?” Jin asked. This neckband piece and its fitted mate were going to be all that stood between an Aventinian Cobra and instant death. If there was the slightest chance it would fail in that job, they should scrap it right now. At the very least, they should figure out a way to test it.

  Corwin might have been reading her mind. “I’m positive,” he said. “I’ve already tested a couple that were in worse shape than that one. That ceramic’s tougher and more forgiving than you might think, at least once it’s cooled and set.”

  Jin smiled lopsidedly. Reading her mind, or more likely had already run through all the thoughts and doubts himself. “Good to know,” she said. “So we give the kiln a few minutes to get back to temp and start the next one? Or did you want to take a break?”

  “The Cobras don’t get a break,” Corwin reminded her grimly. “What are we up to, twenty-four sections?”

  “Right,” Jin confirmed. “Plus however many you’d already made before I got here.”

  “That was twenty sections,” Corwin said. “Making a grand total of twenty-two complete neckbands.”

  Jin suppressed a sigh. Twenty-two neckbands, for the hundred forty Cobras in the province, and the three thousand elsewhere on the planet. All of whom were being fitted with Dominion loyalty collars as fast as Reivaro could turn them out.

  But she and Corwin could only work so fast. Besides, if Aventine’s response to the Troft invasion was anything to go by, most of the Cobras would probably be content to just wear their collars and watch from the sidelines, anyway. It was only the handful who decided to fight back that she and Corwin had to worry about.

  And even twenty-two Cobras—if they were the right Cobras—could do a lot of damage to Reivaro’s calm.

  She peered at the kiln’s temp reading. It was ramping up nicely, and should be ready by the time she finished mixing up the next batch of ceramic. “If we can get six more finished today—” she began.

  And broke off as a sharp three-tone came from the computer in the far corner of the basement. “Uh-oh,” Corwin murmured, hurrying across the room toward the computer. Jin keyed in her telescopics again, focusing on the display.

  One look at the formation of incoming Dominion aircars was all she needed. “They’ve found us,” she snapped. “Come on—we’ve got to get everything under cover.”

  “No time,” Corwin said, spinning on his heel and hurrying back. “No use, anyway—even a toy-store infrared would pick up the kiln. Time to minimize our losses.”

  “What do you mean?” Jin asked, shaking her fingers to loosen them up for combat. “We’re going to fight them, right?”

  “And get us both killed?” he countered. He jogged past her and the table to the wall behind the kiln. “Not to mention wrecking my house?” He did something to the wall—

  And without even a squeak a door-sized section of the wall swung open, revealing a person-sized hole in the concrete and dirt behind it.

  “As I said—minimizing our losses,” Corwin said. “Get in while I grab you some neckbands.”

  “But—” Jin said, staring at the hole. When in the Worlds had he had the time to make that? Surely it hadn’t always been there. Had it?

  “No buts,” Corwin cut her off, grabbing a cloth bag from a nearby chair and stuffing in as many of the finished sections as he could fit in. “That’s about as many as I could do alone,” he added, peering briefly at the number of sections left on the table. “Don’t want them getting suspicious in either direction. Come on, come on—they’ll be deploying any minute.”

  “I can’t leave you here alone,” Jin protested as he returned and gave her a not-very-gentle push toward the hole.

  “You have to,” he insisted. “You know as much about making these things as I do. You can start again somewhere else. Besides, you’re a Cobra, and I’m a retired politician. You’re the best one to carry on the fight.”

  “But I can’t just let them have you,” Jin said even as she let him guide her into the hole.

  “They won’t hurt me,” Corwin assured her. “I’m not dangerous, I don’t know anything, and there’s nothing else they can gain by ruining my day. There’s no room in there for two, and I certainly can’t hide while you stay here. It’s my house—they’re going to believe you’re here and I’m not?”

  Jin took a deep breath. She hated every bit of this, but he unfortunately had all the logic on his side. “What do I do?”

  “First, cultivate your patience,” Corwin said. “The kiln should be close enough and hot enough to mask your heat signature, at least until it cools down. Hopefully, they’ll be long gone by the time that happens.”

  “Then what?”

  “You take these and get out,” Corwin said, reaching past her to shove the bag of neckband sections into a deep alcove carved into the dirt above and behind her head. “On the far side of the room, between the furnace and the cleaning machine, there’s another hidden door—the catch is on the right, same kind as this one. Not enough time for us to go that way now, but you’ll be able to take the tunnel into the storm drain system. Don’t go anywhere you ever liked to go—they’ll probably be watching everything. There’s an eyehole in this door here—see it?”

  “Yes,” Jin said, leaning out for a closer look. The hole was barely a slit, but once the panel was closed in front of her she should have a view of everything from the kiln to the stairway in the middle of the basement and a little bit beyond it.

  “Okay,” Corwin said, getting a grip on the edge of the door. “Make sure it’s clear before you come out.” He forced a smile. “Good luck, Jin, and be safe.”

  The Marines were good, all right. There was no loud bashing in of doors or windows, no clumping thunder of heavy feet overhead, no faint and distant shouted commands or warnings or threats. Corwin had barely made it around to the other side of the table and resumed mixing the ceramic when a trio of armored and helmeted men suddenly appeared on the stairway, their eyes sweeping the room. “Don’t move!” one of them barked, the words coming faintly to Jin through the door. “Hands where we can see them!”

  Corwin froze. “Which one?” he called back.

  “Which one what?” the Marine demanded as they continued the rest of the way down the stairs. The first Marine headed straight toward Corwin, while the other two circled back behind the stairway, checking out the part of the basement back there. All three had laser pistols belted to their sides, Jin noted. Odd that they still bothered lugging the weapons around, given that practically everyone on Aventine surely knew about their epaulets by now.

  “Which one do you want me to do?” Corwin said. “I can’t freeze and lift up my hands at the same time.”

  “Yeah, you’re real funny,” the Marine growled. “Hands behind your back. Now.”

  “Whatever you want,” Corwin said, setting down his spoon and putting his hands behind his back. “I don’t suppose you have a warrant or anything.”

  “Martial law, Governor,” a new voice came from the stairway. “Remember? We don’t need warrants.”

  And as Jin’s stomach tightened at the bitter memories associated with that voice, Colonel Reivaro walked down the stairs into view.

  “Is that you, Colonel?” Corwin called, his lip twitching as the Marine fastened cuffs around his wrists. “Do you make a point of showing up for all the small fish your men bag for you these days?”

  “You’re hardly a small fish, Governor,” Reivaro said, looking around as he strode toward the prisoner. “This way, please.”

  The Marine caught Corwin’s shoulders and turned him around to face Reivaro. “And if you’re impressed that I came to visit…” Reivaro paused and half turned toward the stairway. Jin keyed in her audios, caught the sound of three more sets of footsteps. Another Marine appeared, followed by a second—

  Followed by Captain Joshti Lij Tulu himself.

  Jin felt her mouth drop open. As far as she’d heard, Lij Tulu hadn’t left the orbiting Algonquin since declaring martial law across Aventine. Corwin’s face was turned away from her, but the stiffening of his back indicated that he was as surprised as she was.

  But he’d been a politician once, and he’d once told Jin that the first skills a politician developed were quick thinking and even quicker recovery. “Why, Captain Lij Tulu,” he greeted the newcomer. “This is an unexpected pleasure. Colonel Reivaro and I were just debating what size fish I was. I concede the argument.”

  “As well you should,” Lij Tulu agreed, looking around the basement. His eyes rested on the kiln a moment, then returned to Corwin. “Your name alone raises you to giant trout status. This—” he gestured toward the kiln “—brings you to the very top rank of Cobra World traitors.”

  “I don’t know how a harmless hobby makes me a traitor,” Corwin said mildly. “I’ve been experimenting with ceramics for years. You can ask anyone.”

  “We have,” Lij Tulu said. “Unfortunately for you, we’ve also seen your latest project in action. Are you aware that under Dominion martial law we could try you for sabotage and accessory to sedition this afternoon, convict you by this evening, and execute you by dawn tomorrow?”

  “Sounds like Dominion martial law is barely one step removed from complete lack of law,” Corwin said. “Consider me impressed or intimidated or whatever. Shall we move on to the or? Threats like that usually have an or chasing after them.”

  Lij Tulu smiled thinly. “You should probably know that I’ve dealt with my share of glib politicians back at the Dome. The real Dome, not this pathetic colonial caricature you have here. You should also know that I despise every one of them. I suggest you not try to sound like them.”

  “Point taken,” Corwin said. “Can we get to the or now?”

  For a long moment Lij Tulu just stared at him. “Or you can help me defuse the situation that’s threatening to boil over into the streets of Capitalia,” he said. “The Cobras will listen to you. Your niece and great nephew in particular will listen.”

  “I’m honored that you think so,” Corwin said. “However, I’m sure they’ll listen even harder to Paul Broom, whom you already have in custody. Why don’t you try to persuade him to calm things down? Oh right,” he continued, as if the thought had just occurred to him. “He did try to calm things down, at the Yates Fabrications plant in Archway. You rewarded his efforts by gunning down three Cobras in cold blood.”

  Reivaro stirred—

  “It was hardly cold blood,” Lij Tulu said, interrupting whatever the colonel had been planning to say. “But I’m not surprised that the reports you’ve heard were biased. As to Cobra Broom, yes, he’s still in custody. But he’s no longer in the Aventine system. Commodore Santores took him aboard the Megalith, which has gone to Caelian.”

  “Really,” Corwin said, sounding intrigued. “Not exactly the vacation spot of the Cobra Worlds, so they’ll probably be back soon.”

  “I doubt it,” Lij Tulu said. “You see, we had a visitor yesterday: the Iris, one of the Dorian’s courier ships.” He paused. “Which brought us the coordinates for Qasama.”

  Jin felt her breath catch in her throat. Barrington Moreau had found Qasama?

  If Corwin was as stunned as Jin by the news, he recovered much faster. “So you’re assuming the commodore will be heading there next?” he asked calmly. “Well, best of luck to him. I hope he hasn’t bitten off more than he can chew.”