Free Cobra Gamble by Timothy Zahn Page A

said. "They know the risks and the sacrifices required. They won't give him up."
    "Are you sure about that?" Paul countered, trying hard to think. What was Merrick going to do? What could he do? "Remember, Merrick's a demon warrior. Everyone in Milika probably grew up hating them."
    "Perhaps," Zoshak said. The ghost of a smile touched his lips. "But by now they surely hate the invaders far more."
    "Don't forget that ship's been sitting there for hours," Beach reminded him. "I think Zoshak's right—if they were going to turn him over to the Trofts, they'd have done it by now."
    Except that so far all the Trofts were doing was threatening, and threats by themselves were pretty easy to stand up to. Would that shoulder-to-shoulder human solidarity survive mass death and destruction when the deadline passed and the threats turned into violent action?
    And even if the village didn't hand him over, what then? Would they all fight to the death as Milika was leveled around them?
    And if that happened, what would happen to the mine where Dr. Croi was hoping to set up his Cobra factory?
    Merrick was Paul's son, and dearer to him than his own life. But there were bigger things at stake here. If it cost Merrick's life to get the Trofts to leave Milika, that might very well be what he would have to do. Unless...
    "I need to talk to him," Paul said. "Can you get me there?"
    "It won't be comfortable," Beach warned, eying Paul's bandaged leg. "And I doubt we can get you inside. The ship's sitting in front of the gate, and the entire top of the wall is within their view."
    "I just need to get close enough to see and be seen," Paul said. "If I can get his attention we can use Dida code to communicate."
    "Okay," Beach said, sounding doubtful. "Is Wendell in the bunker?"
    "Why?"
    Beach frowned slightly. "Because we're going to need the second spooker and someone to drive it," he said.
    "I'll go get him," Zoshak volunteered, hopping off the spooker.
    "That's all right," Paul said quickly. "Don't wake him. We can manage with one."
    "How you figure that?" Beach asked, his frown deepening. "You and Zoshak going to ride double?"
    "We leave Djinni Zoshak here and you take me," Paul said. "I assume your stabilization computer's got an inertial track memory, so we should be able to find Milika again without him."
    "Or you and I could go alone," Zoshak offered. Like Beach, there was something in the Qasamans voice that indicated he'd figured out something was going on, even if he didn't yet know what that something was. "I'm sure I could do an adequate job of driving the vehicle."
    "And if he can't, I can," Paul said. "I've driven regular grav-lift cycles before. Whatever extra juice spookers have, I can handle it."
    "Uh-huh." Deliberately, Beach folded his arms across his chest. "Okay, let's have it."
    "Have what?" Paul asked.
    "Whatever it is you're cooking up," Beach said flatly. "Come on, give."
    "I agree," Zoshak seconded.
    Paul sighed. "We need to get Isis into Milika," he said. "We can't do that while the Trofts are there. They aren't leaving without a Cobra." He braced himself. "So we'll give them one."
    Beach's eyes narrowed. "You?"
    "Me," Paul confirmed.
    Beach looked at Zoshak, back at Paul. "And how exactly do you plan to explain to the Trofts how a young, fit Cobra inside the Milika wall managed to transmogrify himself into an older, half-crippled Cobra outside the wall?"
    "I don't know yet," Paul said. "And I won't until I talk to Merrick and find out what exactly the Trofts know." He gestured. "So am I getting on that spooker with you? Or to I have to knock you off it and head out on my own?"
    "I'd like to see you try," Beach said absently, gazing hard into Paul's face. "Okay, I'll go this far. I'll take you to Milika, but I want a decent plan on the table before you do anything. There's no point in losing both you and Merrick to the Trofts. And I still think I should wake Wendell and make this a foursome."
    "There's no time," Paul said.