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on Qasama?"
There was a brief silence; and, one by one, they nodded. "The cities," Joshua
said. "That's the key indicator. They've gone to enormous trouble to duplicate
the mojos' natural breeding patterns, even when simpler ways exist. Funny none
of us picked up on that before."
"Maybe not," Pyre told him grimly. "Maybe the mojos were able to dampen our
curiosity that much, at least."
"Or maybe not," Joshua retorted. "Let's not start giving these birds too many
superhuman abilities, all right? They're not even intelligent, remember. I
think we humans are all perfectly capable of missing the obvious without any
outside help."
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The discussion went back and forth for a while before turning to others
matters ... and so engrossed
COBRA STRIKE
269
did they all become that Pyre alone noticed Justin's quiet departure.
The desk in his temporary Cobra Academy room was small and several centimeters
shorter than he liked; but it was equipped with a computer terminal, and that
was all Justin really cared about.
He'd just punched in a new search command and was waiting for the results when
there was a tap at the door. "Come in," he said absently. Probably someone
here to complain about his late hours again
"No one ever tell you it was impolite to leave without saying good-bye?"
Justin spun his chair around, surprise and chagrin flooding his face with
heat. "Oh ... hi, Aunt
Gwen," he managed to say without stuttering. "Uh well, you were all busy
discussing the mojos, and
I had work to do here...."
He trailed off under her steady, no-nonsense gaze, the look that since
childhood had been more effective on him than any amount of brimstone or
lecture. "Vh-huh," she said. "Well, it's too bad you took off when you did.
You missed my report."
"The one on the Qasaman strategic material situation?"
"That's the one. And the surprise bonus: the Qasa-mans' long-range
communication method."
Justin blinked, his heartbeat speeding up. "You've figured it out? Well, come
on how do they do it?"
"I'll trade you," she said, waving at the desk and its scattering of papers
and maps. "You tell me your secret first."
He felt his mouth twist into a grimace ... but he'd have to tell someone soon,
anyway. Aunt Gwen he could at least hope to be sympathetic. "All right," he
sighed. "I'm trying to work up a tactical plan for the next intelligence raid
on Qasama."
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Gwen's eyes remained steady on his. "What makes you think there'll be another
mission?"
270
Timothy Zahn
"There has to be," he said. "The first mission ended with too many critical
facts still unknown.
Those underground manufacturing centers, at the very least, and if Dad's right
the mojos as well."
"Uh-huh. I presume you plan on leading this expedition?"
Justin's lip quirked. "Of course not... but I wilt be one of the team."
"Um." Gwen glanced around the room, snared a chair from beside the door and
pulled it over to face her nephew's. "You know, Justin," she said, sitting
down, "if I didn't know better, I'd think you were running away from
something."
He snorted. "Heading to Qasama hardly qualifies as running away, in my
opinion."
"Depends on what you have here to face. Staying put when you feel real or
imagined public animosity isn't easy. But sometimes any other option is the
coward's way out."
Justin took a deep breath. "Aunt Gwen ... you can't possibly know what this
situation is like. I
failed on Qasama pure and simple and it's my job now to make up for it if I
can."
"You're not listening. Failure or not isn't the issue. Rushing ahead with a
premature course of action qualifies as running away, period. And yes, I do
know what you're facing. When your father came back from the war he " She
stopped, lips compressed, then quietly continued. "There was an accident in
town one night, and he ... killed a couple of teen-agers."
Justin felt his mouth go dry. "I've never heard this," he said carefully.
"It's nothing we're anxious to talk about," she sighed. "Basically, the kids
pretended they were going to run him over with their car and his Cobra [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]