And stiffened as his field of view expanded back to normal again. The strange Troft ship wasn't alone. There were at least fifty of them, coming out of the darkness in a wedge formation, none of them running grav lifts.
Running without the telltale red glow of grav lifts.
Merrick keyed in the telescopics again, focusing on the lead ship . . . and this time he spotted the cluster of objects nestled up beside the hulls beneath the stubby bow and stern wings. "Oh, hell," he murmured.
"What is it?" Jin asked tautly.
With an effort, Merrick found his voice. "Tell Fadil to punch it," he said, marveling at how calm his voice sounded. "Those are Troft warships. Fifty to a hundred of them."
He turned to face his mother's suddenly widened eyes. "Qasama's under attack."
"God in heaven," Daulo breathed. "Are you sure?"
"Trust me," Merrick said, looking back and forth between the various incoming ships. "There are at least twenty more of the wrigglefish ones, but also a few that look like flying sharks. I see a couple of wider ones in back too—whoops; there go their grav lifts," he said as red glows appeared in unison beneath each of the incoming ships.
"Coming in for a landing," Jin said tightly. "Looks like Sollas is the target."
"Like there was any doubt," Merrick said. "What do we do?"
"We have to warn the Shahni," Daulo insisted.
"Right," Jin said. "You have any kind of comm or radio? Ours are still in our packs back at Milika."
Daulo hissed viciously between his teeth. "Unfortunately, the only radio equipment simple villagers like ourselves may use are the short-range sets we use to communicate into the mines," he said. "Everything else is reserved for the Shahni and military."
"Maybe Carsh Zoshak has something with him," Jin suggested. "Merrick?"
"I'm on it," Merrick said, running his hands quickly over Zoshak's tunic and robe. But there was nothing. "No good," he said. "If he had something, we must have left it in the car."
"Any idea where any of the Shahni live?" Jin asked. "If we can't call them, maybe we can go pound on someone's door."
"They and their families all live together in the Palace in the center of Sollas," Daulo said. "Unfortunately I doubt we can reach it before the invaders do."
"Depends on how smart the Trofts are," Jin said. "If they decide to secure the airfield area first—which is what
I'd
do—we might have time to get to the Shahni and at least help them get to cover."
There was a soft noise from Zoshak, and Merrick looked down to see that the other's teeth were chattering again. "We may have to postpone any door-knocking," he warned. "I think Carsh Zoshak's going into shock again."
"Daulo, check and see where the nearest hospital is," Jin said. "Someplace that can handle—"
She broke off as the forward edge of the invasion force shot past overhead, filling the air with a deep, throaty roar. For a long minute the sound continued, the truck rattling as Fadil fought the buffeting slipstream of the ships' passage.
And then the wave was past, and the sound faded away into the tense stillness of the predawn landscape. "Someplace that can handle possible head trauma," Jin finished her sentence. "Doesn't look like they're all headed for the airfield, does it?"
"It would appear they mean to take the entire city at once," Daulo agreed tightly. "But we won't be destroyed without a fight."
"Fortunately, mass destruction doesn't seem to be part of the Trofts' playbook," Jin said. "At least, not the Trofts the Dominion of Man ran into a century ago. They prefer to conquer planets and peoples in more or less working condition. Did you find us a hospital?"
"The closest is just inside the southwestern gate," Daulo said, holding up the map for her to see. "Once he's there—"
A hand brushed Merrick's knee. "Hold it a sec," Merrick interrupted, looking down.
Zoshak's eyes were open, though just barely. "Where . . . ?" the young man whispered. "What . . . ?"
"You were in an accident," Merrick told him, feeling a fresh flash of guilt at having been the one who'd caused the wreck. "We're taking you to—where are we going?"
"The Everhope Hospital," Daulo said.
"The Everhope Hospital in Sollas," Merrick repeated. "We'll be there in just a few minutes."
Zoshak closed his eyes. "Lodestar," he murmured. "It must be Lodestar."
"What's Lodestar?" Merrick asked.
"It's another hospital," Daulo said, studying his map. "But it's near the city center. Even at this time of morning it would take an additional quarter of an hour or more for us to reach it."
Merrick nodded. "The Everhope's closer," he told Zoshak. "We'll take you there."
Zoshak shook his head weakly. "Lodestar," he insisted, his voice almost too weak to hear. "Specialist. Kambuzia."
"He says there's a specialist there named Kambuzia," Merrick repeated.
"Not smart," Daulo objected, looking over the back seat at the cargo area. "The first rule of emergency care is to obtain it as quickly as possible."
"Kambuzia," Zoshak whispered. "Kambuzia."
"Yes, but he clearly wants this Dr. Kambuzia," Merrick said, touching his fingers to Zoshak's throat. "Pulse is still good," he said, gazing down into the other's face. Zoshak's eyes had opened a little again, and behind the drooping lids Merrick could sense an unbending insistence. "I don't think he's going to be happy with anyone else."
Daulo muttered something under his breath. "Probably some relative," he muttered. "Fine. Fadil, at the ring road swing north toward the western gate instead of continuing on to the southwest entrance."
They reached the ring road and turned north. Merrick tried to see what might be happening in the city, but the wall blocked everything but the tops of the nearest buildings.
But at least there was no sound of gunfire or lasers. Yet.
The western gate was standing wide open when they arrived. It was also deserted, with no guards or other travelers anywhere in sight. "This isn't right," Fadil muttered as he drove through. "Where is everyo—?"
The rest of his question was cut off by the abrupt screech of tires on pavement as he slammed on the brakes. Merrick grabbed for a handhold and ducked down to look past his mother's head out the windshield.
And found himself gazing at the tall side of one of the Troft ships.
It was squatting on wide landing skids in the center of the intersection just beyond the gate, positioned with its longitudinal axis along the wider southeast-to-northwest avenue and its flank toward the narrower street the Sammon truck had entered by. "Regular air field not good enough for them?" Merrick muttered.
"First rule of urban occupation is to control or block major intersections," Jin said tightly. "Looks like they've decided to do both. Look at the firepower they've got under those wings."
Merrick craned his neck and grimaced. Now that the ship was close by and standing still, he was able to get some detail on the weapons mounted on pylons beneath the stubby wings. "Looks like lasers
and
missile launchers," he said.
"All mounted on individual swivels on those pylons, you'll notice," his mother said. "Makes it easy to fire in any direction."
Merrick nodded. And with Qasaman city avenues nice and straight and wide, a single gunship's weapons would command a lot of territory.
"God in heaven," Daulo murmured.
Merrick tore his gaze from the ship. Striding toward them with hand-and-a-half lasers held at the ready were four Trofts.
He felt his muscles stiffen, a sudden flood of claustrophobia gripping his heart. Each of the aliens was wearing a thick armored leotard with heavy knee-high boots and a belt that sported a small sidearm, a long knife, and half a dozen gadgets that Merrick didn't recognize. Their helmets were of an odd, almost flowing design that curved down behind them to protect the backs of their necks, with a thick plastic or glass faceplate covering their faces.
And here Merrick sat, trapped in the back of a truck, with his mother and her friends blocking most of his field of fire. If the Trofts decided to mow them all down, there was nothing he could do to stop them—
"Merrick, do you recognize the demesne pattern?" Jin asked quietly.
With an effort, Merrick forced down his fear. His mother was right—this was the time for thought and planning, not panic. Anyway, if the Trofts wanted them dead, they would have already opened fire. "I think I can see some elements of the Pua demesne," he said. "But taken as a whole it isn't any combination I've seen before."
"That's what I was thinking," his mother agreed. "Which may imply the attack isn't coming from any of Qasama's immediate neighbors, or at least not the ones who first told us about their presence here."
"What does it matter where they came from?" Fadil snarled as the Trofts continued toward them.
"I don't know yet," Jin said calmly. "But all information is eventually useful."
"
If
you live through it," Fadil bit back. "You're the brave demon warriors.
Do
something."
"Patience, my son," Daulo said. His voice, Merrick noted with a flicker of resentment, was as calm as Jin's, and far calmer than Merrick himself was feeling. "Jin Moreau, how do you wish to play this?"
"As low-key and truthful as possible," Jin told him. "We were coming to Sollas to shop around some ore samples, found an accident victim on the road, and are trying to get him to the hospital."
"We'll try it," Daulo said. "Remember to let me do all the talking."
Five meters from the truck the Trofts shifted formation, one of them approaching the driver's side while the other three fanned out sideways with their lasers covering the occupants. At a murmured word from Daulo, Fadil rolled down his window. "What's the meaning of this?" Daulo demanded, his voice stiff and even a bit haughty. "We are citizens of Qasama—"
Behind the faceplate, Merrick saw the Troft's beak moving as he said something in cattertalk. "You will remain silent," a round pin on the alien's left shoulder boomed out the Qasaman translation. "State your business in Sollas."
"We bring ore samples to the refineries." Daulo nodded back toward Merrick and Zoshak. "More importantly, we also have an injured man we found on the road. He needs to be taken to a hospital."
The Troft looked past Fadil's head into the cargo area. Merrick crouched low over Zoshak, putting as much concern into his face and his body language as he could. He had no idea whether the Troft could even read humans that closely, but there was no harm in trying. "Where was this accident?" the alien asked.
"About twenty kilometers back along the Azras road," Daulo said. "Go look for yourselves if you don't believe me."
Merrick felt his stomach tighten. If the Trofts examined the wreck closely enough to find the laser damage to the car's tires . . . but that was pretty unlikely. If they did anything, it would be a quick flyover to see that an abandoned car was, in fact, where Daulo said it was.
"Where is this hospital?" the Troft asked.
"Four blocks down that street," Daulo said, pointing toward the Troft ship blocking the road.
The alien seemed to consider. "You may take him," he said. "But on foot. No vehicles are currently permitted on the streets."
"He's
injured,
" Daulo repeated, in the tone someone might use when trying to explain something to a small child. "The extra time that would take could be fatal."
"No vehicles are currently permitted on the streets," the Troft said again. "Take him, or leave him here."
"Fine," Daulo shot back scornfully. "Fadil, pull over there."
"Do not move the vehicle," the Troft said, gesturing sharply toward Fadil with his laser as the younger Sammon started to put the truck into gear. "Shut off the engine and give me the starting mechanism."
"Why?" Daulo demanded. "This is
my
truck. You go find your own."
Fadil shot his father a nervous look. "Father—"
"Quiet," Daulo cut him off, his glare focused on the Troft. "You want me to beg? Is that it? Fine, then—I'll beg. May I
please
drive the injured man to the hospital?"
The Troft gestured again. "Get out of the vehicle," he ordered. "Give me the starting mechanism."
Daulo snorted, an angry, contemptuous sound. "Give him the keys, Fadil. Everyone else, out."
A minute later they had Zoshak out of the truck, Jin supporting the unconscious man's head while the other three carried his body horizontally on their forearms like a living stretcher. "You take terrible chances, my father," Fadil murmured tautly as they headed down the street.
"I'm a Qasaman, my son," Daulo countered, his voice still simmering with anger. "These invaders might as well know from the very start who we are whom they have challenged. Jin Moreau, do we go around the front of the alien ship, or around the rear?"
"The front," Jin said. Merrick could see from her expression that she didn't agree with Daulo's in-your-face attitude, but it was also clear she wasn't about to call him on it. Certainly not in front of the man's own son. "I want to see what the forward weapons and sensor clusters look like."
Another pair of Trofts stepped into view around the ship's bow as the stretcher party approached, their lasers not quite pointing at the humans. But they made no effort to stop or even challenge. Apparently, the word had been passed from the checkpoint that this group was to be allowed past. Jin led the way around the ship, glancing casually up at the gleaming metal as they walked. Merrick looked up, too, but he could make little of the orderly array of bumps, nozzles, pits, and intakes.
And then they were past the ship and the watchful Trofts and were heading down the deserted street. "Another three blocks, you said?" Jin asked.
"Yes," Daulo confirmed. "It should be that eight-story white building just ahead, the one with the half-circle drive for emergency vehicles."
Jin half turned, taking care not to jostle Zoshak's head as she did so. "I see it," she said, turning back. "I don't suppose the Palace would happen to be somewhere along the way?"