"Fine. Thanks, Corwin-this has been driving me just barely south of frantic."
"No problem. See you tonight."
Joshua disappeared from the screen. Scowling, Corwin punched up the Cobra
Academy and asked for Justin. A moment later his brother's face came on.
"Hello?-oh, hi, Corwin. What can I do for you?"
It took Corwin a second to find his tongue. Seldom if ever had he known Justin to be so coolly polite, so-the term businesslike leapt to mind. "Uh, I was just calling to see if you'd be coming to the family round table tonight," he said at last. "I presume Dad told you about it?"
"Yes, a couple-days ago, and Joshua again today. I understand Aunt Gwen's going to be there too."
Nuts, Corwin thought with a mental grimace. He'd been planning to drop that tidbit on Justin himself as a surprise bonus incentive to attend. Aunt
Gwen-Jonny's younger sister-had been Justin's favorite relative since childhood, but her visits had been few and far between since her move to Palatine six years earlier. "That's right," he told Justin. "She's one of the geologists working on the Qasama data."
Justin's lip might have twitched at the name Qasama; Corwin wasn't sure. "Yes,
Dad mentioned that. Well, as I told Joshua, I'll try to make it."
"What's to keep you away?" Corwin asked, studiously casual. "You're still off-duty, aren't you?"
"Officially, yes. But there's something I've been working on lately that I'm trying to finish up."
"What sort of something?"
Justin's face didn't change. "You'll find out when it's done. Until then I'd rather not say."
Corwin exhaled quietly and admitted defeat. "All right, be mysterious; see if I care. But let me know if you need transport and I'll send a car for you."
"Thanks. Talk to you later."
" 'Bye." The screen blanked, and Corwin leaned back in his seat. The trip to
Qasama had definitely changed his younger brother-and not necessarily for the better. Still, as he'd told Joshua, some things simply took time to work out.
His intercom buzzed: Yutu with something new on the public net that needed an official response. Sighing, Corwin turned on the net and, pushing his worries about Justin into the background, got back to work.
For Pyre, it was just like old times. Almost.
An invitation to the Moreau family dinners had always ranked at the very top of his list, not only because he enjoyed their company but also because their tacit acceptance of him as part of the family was an honor bestowed on few other outsiders. Over the years he'd had the privilege of watching the three boys move from high chairs to boosters to full adult participation; had learned by osmosis some of the intricacies of Cobra World politics; had even gotten to know Gwen
Moreau, barely three years his senior, well enough to seriously consider marriage to her. Tonight as he looked around the table, listening and contributing to the chitchat, he felt the memories of those happier times drifting like the scent of good cahve through his mind.
But tonight the warmth was chilled, and all their efforts could not dispel the cloud that Justin's empty chair cast over the proceedings. Jonny had assured them that Justin would be there in time for the discussion, but as dinner wore down to dessert and then cahve Pyre began to doubt it.
And worse than Justin's voluntary exile was the cold certainty in Pyre's gut that ultimately it was his fault.
Not just the fact that he'd been Justin's Cobra trainer, the one responsible for making sure the boy was ready for the mission. Pyre had trained Cobras before, and if Justin had failed to develop that touch of defensive paranoia a man in danger needed, that was simply the other's basic personality. Too, he could have forbidden Justin's participation on the mission; but the Council wanted the twins aboard and there was nothing Pyre could have pointed to to justify dropping them out.
But if he'd followed the armored bus when Moff had taken Justin from Sollas to
Purma....
It was a scenario Pyre had played over and over in infinite variation on the trip back to Aventine, and it still haunted the quiet times of his day. If he'd followed the bus he could have broken Justin out at that first stop, the two of them then freeing Cerenkov and Rynstadt. Or even have waited until the high-security building and then backtracked to the others' rescue. Justin would never have had to face the situation of being deep in enemy territory, abandoned by the outside assistance he'd counted on.
And he wouldn't have had to learn quite so hard the fact that even Cobras were allowed to be afraid. Allowed to panic. Allowed to remain human.
Dinner ended, and the group moved into the living room. But Jonny had barely begun when there was a quiet knock on the door and Justin let himself in.
There was a brief, awkward moment as everyone I tried for the right balance of greeting, interest, casualness, and solicitude. But then Joshua managed to I break the ice. "About time," he growled, mock-seriously. "You were supposed to be bringing the main course."
Justin smiled, and the tension eased. "Sorry I'm late," he apologized, also mock-seriously, to his brother. "The gantua steaks will be along in a minute-and as partial compensation for the delay, the meat is exceptionally fresh."
He sat down beside Joshua, nodded to the others and then turned his eyes expectantly to his father. "How much have I missed?"
"As a matter of fact, we were just starting." Jonny hesitated. "What I'm about to say-about to suggest-is going to sound pretty strange," he said, glancing around at the others. "What's worse is that I haven't got any solid evidence whatsoever for it. That's the main reason you're all here: to help me decide whether I'm actually on to something or just hallucinating." His eyes shifted to
Chrys, seated on the couch between Corwin and Gwen, and stayed there as if seeking strength. "I asked you to read the report on the planet Tacta that the
Menssana brought back, in particular the section on the bird we've nicknamed the spookie. What was in there wasn't much-mainly just a brief encounter we had with one near the ship's perimeter. What wasn't there was the strong suspicion I've had ever since then that the spookie is in some degree telepathic."
The word seemed to hang like smoke in the air. Pyre flicked his eyes around the room: at Chrys, who looked troubled; Corwin, Gwen, and Joshua, whose faces appeared to register astonished skepticism; at Justin, whose expression was closed but... interested.
"All my evidence is subjective," Jonny continued, "but let me describe exactly what happened and see what you think."
Carefully, almost as if giving evidence in court, he went on to tell of the spookie watching him from the low bushes; of its agitation when he called others over to see; of its deftly timed, deftly executed break for freedom; and of the mission's failure to locate any more of the species. When he finished there was a long silence.
"Anyone else come to this conclusion?" Gwen asked at last.
"Two or three others are wondering about it," Jonny told her. "Understandably, none of us put it in our official reports, but Chrys and I weren't imagining things out there."
"Um. Doesn't have to be a complete, mind-reading telepathy, does it?" Gwen mused. "With a spookie's brain capacity it shouldn't have the intelligence to handle input like that."
"Dr. Hanford made a similar comment at the time," Chrys said. "We've talked about the possibility the spookies might form some kind of group mind, or that the sense boils down more to a feeling for danger than actual mind-reading."
"I'd vote for the latter," Corwin put in. "A group mind, even if such a thing could exist, shouldn't worry too much about losing one of its cells. In fact, it might deliberately sacrifice a spookie or two to get a look at your weaponry in action."