But there was no sound from his translator pendant and the words fell on effectively deaf ears. "Moff-" Cerenkov began, half rising.
"Don't bother," Rynstadt advised quietly. "That's just a recorder, not a translator. We'll have to wait until we get back to Sollas to clear this up."
Cerenkov opened his mouth, apparently thought better of it, and dropped back into his seat. Moff's gun hadn't so much as twitched, York noted uncomfortably.
A steady man, with nerves not easily rattled-which severely limited the range of ploys that could be used against him. And his mojo...
His mojo hadn't so much as squawked at the sight of his owner with a gun drawn on another human being. None of the birds had. For whatever reason-appearance, odor, speech-the Aventinians apparently had been exempted from the automatic protection the mojos gave their Qasaman masters. York had almost dared to hope that any Qasaman action against the team would be at least hindered a bit by the mojos' presence. But that was obviously not going to happen.
Across the aisle, Joshua shifted in his seat. "They must have one gantua of a computer capability to get even that much of a translation this fast," he muttered.
"They presumably have been recording both our words and their translation, though," Rynstadt pointed out. He seemed relaxed, almost unconcerned, and for a moment York stared at him in utter incomprehension. Didn't the idiot realize just how much trouble they were in? This isn't some game, the snarl welled up in his throat. These people are serious, and they're scared.
He choked the words down unsaid. Of course Rynstadt wasn't worried-weren't there four Cobras aboard the Dewdrop ready to burst out and rescue them in a blaze of laser fire?
Except it wasn't going to be that easy; and if none of the others realized that
York certainly did. Shifting his gaze to the window, he studied the darkening sky and the even darker forest flanking the road. Moff's timed this well, he thought, a touch of professional respect adding counterpoint to the pounding of his heart. Far from the Dewdrop, in dangerous and unfamiliar territory with night coming on, only a lunatic would attempt an escape. The sun glinted through a gap in the trees, and he realized suddenly that sometime in the past few minutes they'd turned to the southwest, off of the direct east-west route between Huriseem and Sollas. South, to the next city in the chain? Probably.
Keep the hostages away from the temptation of a rescue, while to the potential rescuers themselves you did... what? What did the Qasamans intend to do to the
Dewdrop?
He looked at Joshua, saw his own fears and uncertainties reflected in the younger man's taut face. Son of a Cobra, brother of a Cobra, he understood far better than Rynstadt the limits of the Dewdrop's defenses.
A measure of fear prepares the body; panic paralyzes it, his old Marine instructor's favorite aphorism echoed through York's mind. Consciously slowing his breathing, he blocked the panic and let the fear remain. When the opportunity came, he would have to be ready.
The announcement that briefly penetrated the roar of static in the Dewdrop's lounge was short and excruciatingly to the point: "You are suspected of spying on the people of Qasama. You will make no aggressive move or try to escape. If you disobey you will be destroyed."
The static resumed at full intensity, and Christopher spat something blasphemous. "How the hell did they figure it out-?"
"Shut up!" Telek snapped, her own heart a painful thudding in her ears. It had happened-her worst nightmare-and she'd failed to get the team out before the hammer fell. She'd failed. Oh, God. What am I going to do-?
A voice from the intercom cut into her thoughts. "Governor, I'm picking up motion and hot-spots on top of the airfield tower," Captain F'ahl said. "No clear view of any weapons or people yet; they may have something like mortars or lob-rockets that'll avoid line-of-sight exposure."
With a wrench Telek shoved the rising panic out of her way. "I understand,
Captain. Can our lasers take down the entire tower?"
"Probably not-and I wouldn't even want to try until we'd gotten everyone we could back on board."
"I wasn't suggesting we start now," she said icily. So F'ahl was already preparing himself to accept team casualties. Well, she was damned if she was going to give up that easily. "Anything on the computer screening? Joshua's split-frequency signal is supposed to be jam-proof by ordinary-"
Without warning, the field of snow on the displays abruptly cleared, and they were back in the Qasaman bus.
Telek leaned forward, hands tightening painfully... but the carnage she'd half expected wasn't there. The scene was almost exactly as it had been when the signal had been cut off a scant few minutes ago... except that Moff was sitting facing the Aventinians with his gun drawn.
Telek groped for the mike. "Joshua, let me see the rest of the team," she called.
The scene remained unchanged. "He can't hear you," Christopher murmured. "We can clean up the signal at this end, but there's no computer equipment out there to do the same."
"Great," Telek gritted. "Which means we can't contact Almo, either. Damn it all." She stared at the display another moment, then turned to the two men standing quietly just inside the lounge door. "Well, gentlemen, it looks very much like your paid vacation is over. Suggestions?"
Michael Winward gestured toward one of the displays showing the nearby forest.
"The Qasamans presumably don't know Almo's out there, which is theoretically an advantage for our side. But if we can't tell him what's going on the advantage is pretty useless. Somehow, we've got to get his attention so that he'll set up the comm laser."
"In other words, you think you should try and sneak out to him." Telek hesitated, shook her head. "No. Too risky. Even if we could come up with a diversion for you you'd probably be spotted before you could get to cover. Let's see if we can wait until the usual check-in time."
The other Cobra, Dorjay Link, glanced at Winward and shook his head minutely.
"The Qasamans may be moving people and weapons into the forest to cover the
Dewdrop from that side," he told Telek. "Almo could come down from his nest right into the middle of them."
"He'd hear or see them, though, wouldn't he?" Nnamdi spoke up.
"Cobras are human, too," Winward said tartly. "And if he doesn't even wake up until they're in position they won't be making much noise."
Telek stared at the forest display. I'm out of my depth, she admitted to herself. We've gone to a military situation without a scrap of warning-
No. They had had their warning; and that was what really hurt. The purpose of
Moff's mysterious disappearance a few hours ago was now clear: he'd been setting up this operation, coordinating things via the still unknown, triple-damned long-range communication system of theirs. In which case-"The soldiers and guns are probably already in place out there," she said out loud. "The only way to wake Almo up and simultaneously let him know there's trouble..." She stopped and looked back at the two Cobras.
Winward nodded-understanding or agreement, she didn't know which. "A quick sortie. Gunfire and all that. Let me get into my camouflage suit-be back in a minute. Dorjay, start looking for my best approach, will you?"
"Sure," Link said as Winward vanished out the lounge door. "Any chance.
Governor, that we can wait until full dark?"
"No," Christopher spoke up before Telek could say anything. "Governor, we've got a new problem-the contact team's not being brought back to Sollas."
"Damn." Telek stepped to his side, looked at the display that was now showing an aerial photo of the area between Sollas and Huriseem. "How do you know?"
"Joshua's been looking around a little-I saw the sun out of the side window.
Looks to me like they're taking this road-" he traced it with a finger-"down to the next city southwest of here."
Telek checked the scale. "Damn. Closest approach doesn't get them under twenty kilometers from the Dewdrop. Where's the next connecting road?-oh, there it is.