Dragonback 06 Dragon and Liberator Page 9

  Move all the way to the wall, Draycos's thought whispered into Jack's mind.

  Way ahead of you, buddy, Jack assured him. He took two long steps forward to the far side of the corridor and leaned against the wall, pressing his chest firmly to the cold metal.

  And with a flicker of sensation, Draycos leaned off his skin and fell over the wall.

  "This ought to look really good on your service record," Jack commented, speaking loudly enough to cover any sound the K'da might make as he landed on the concrete floor below. "Neverlin and Frost have both tried to nail me and neither of them even came close."

  "Yeah, and I'll bet you tried to talk them to death, too," Chiggers growled. The patrol ship vibrated slightly with the other's footsteps as he strode the rest of the way up the ramp and stepped through the hatchway. "What we're going to do—"

  Abruptly, there was a hollow-sounding thud, followed by a sort of crumpling sound. "All right, Jack," Draycos said.

  Jack turned around. Chiggers was sprawled half inside the airlock, unconscious. He was wearing a Malison Ring flight suit, though with the helmet still off. A large and unpleasant-looking gun lay on the deck near his right hand. "Nice job, symby," Jack said, stepping over and retrieving the weapon. "Too bad, though. I was looking forward to hearing how he thought he could put a K'da poet-warrior out of action without killing him."

  "Perhaps keeping me alive was never part of his plan," Draycos said.

  "Probably not," Jack conceded. Stuffing Chiggers's gun into his belt, he retrieved his tangler and peered aft down the corridor. "So if that noise isn't him working on the leak, what is it?"

  "Obviously, some sort of bait," Draycos said. "Hence the unusual rhythm I noticed earlier. He must have become suspicious of my sabotage and decided to lie in wait to see if anyone came calling."

  "And we walked right into it," Jack said, feeling his cheeks warming. Uncle Virgil had warned him over and over about both sloppiness and overconfidence. "If it hadn't been for your jump-the-wall trick, we'd have been up the creek for sure."

  "We wouldn't have been there for long," Draycos said, his voice dark. "Still, without the trick I would probably have been forced to kill him."

  "Lucky Chiggers," Jack murmured. Draycos was so civilized and pleasant most of the time that the boy sometimes forgot the sheer raw power that lay beneath those red-edged golden scales. "Let's get to the cockpit and see if all this was worth the effort."

  It was.

  "Here we go," Jack said, peering at the navigational display. "It's even called Point Two, in fact. It's out past Trintonias, about a two-day trip from your new home on Iota Klestis."

  "If that will, in fact, be our new home," Draycos said.

  Jack grimaced. Iota Klestis was probably still owned by the Triost Mining Group, which was itself owned by Braxton Universis. If Harper's appearance on Brum-a-dum meant that Braxton had now become a part of Neverlin's conspiracy, the K'da and Shontine would probably have to hunt up a new place to move into.

  Assuming the refugees even survived that long. "We'll make it work," Jack told Draycos firmly. "Anyway, it's about a four-day trip from here. We'd better grab some supplies and get moving."

  "Supplies?" Draycos asked, his tail curving in a frown.

  "Didn't I tell you?" Jack asked. "We're taking the ship and heading to Point Two."

  Draycos's neck arched. "We're what?"

  "Well, we're sure not taking the Essenay into Neverlin's hornet's nest," Jack pointed out. "How did you think we were going to get there?"

  "I assumed we would now try to make a deal with Harper and Braxton."

  "I don't trust Harper," Jack said flatly. "Or Braxton."

  "I believe Braxton to be trustworthy," Draycos said, a bit hesitantly. "From comments Alison has made, I gather she also has no reason to distrust him."

  "Well, cheers for Alison," Jack said. "If it comes to that, I don't necessarily trust her, either. She and I might be on the same side at the moment, but she's not leveling with us. Not completely."

  "Probably not," Draycos conceded. "On the other hand, the only people we'll find at Point Two will definitely not be on our side."

  "Leave that to me, symby," Jack told him. Reaching to his collar, he turned on his comm clip. "Uncle Virge?"

  "Right here, Jack lad," the computerized voice came back instantly. "You all right?"

  "We're fine," Jack said. "You want to bring the Essenay over? We've got another passenger for you, and I don't feel like lugging him through the streets."

  There was a short silence. "Another passenger?"

  "Don't worry; I'm sure he and Harper will get along like a house on fire," Jack said. "Now, move it. We're on a schedule here."

  Harper, as it turned out, was not at all pleased with his new roommate. "This is ridiculous," he fumed as Jack secured Chiggers to a thick metal cable fastened to one of the pipes on the far side of the cabin.

  "I know," Jack said. "But what can I say? The Essenay hasn't got a proper brig."

  Chiggers muttered something nasty sounding, his breath a puff of warmth against Jack's cheek as the boy double-checked the mercenary's handcuffs. The man was seething, but there wasn't a thing he could do about his situation. Not with Draycos standing watchful guard at his side.

  "I've already told you I'm on your side," Harper said. "I can help you."

  "And all who believe that raise their hands," Jack said, backing away from Chiggers. "Okay. You can both get to the food and water supply and the bathroom. But there's nothing either of you can use to cut your tethers or unlock your cuffs."

  "You got something to keep me from killing him while he sleeps?" Chiggers demanded, glaring across at Harper. Without his fancy Malison Ring flight suit, Jack reflected, Chiggers looked and sounded more like a street punk than a big bad mercenary soldier.

  Harper apparently thought so, too. "I'd be real careful about trying something like that, sonny boy," he said, his voice sending a shiver up Jack's back. "Half-asleep, I could still take you."

  "I guess maybe we'll find out about that," Chiggers retorted.

  "I guess maybe we won't," Jack put in. "Because Uncle Virge is going to be keeping an eye on you. Say hello to the nice men, Uncle Virge."

  "I don't think you've really thought this through, Jack lad," Uncle Virge said darkly. "What if they do make trouble? For me or each other?"

  "Then you crack open one of the sopor mist canisters from Alison's collection that I've hooked into the air system," Jack said. "There are three of them, wired separately, in case you feel like giving them more than one chance."

  "And what happens when I've used up all the canisters?" Uncle Virge persisted.

  "Then they'll really be sorry they made trouble," Jack said, watching both men carefully. "Because if and when you have to crack the third one, you're to fly them to Roarke's Mill on Cavendish while they're sleeping."

  Harper frowned. Clearly, the name meant nothing to him.

  Chiggers's reaction was far more interesting. There was a catch in his breath, and his eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare," he said.

  "Oh yes, I would," Jack assured him.

  "What's Roarke's Mill?" Harper asked.

  "It's a hangout for killers and thugs," Chiggers growled. "The Internos has tried a dozen times to clear it out, including hiring the Malison Ring and a couple of other merc groups to handle the grunt work. But the scum just keep coming back."

  "It's also a hangout for less violent people, like con artists and safecrackers," Jack said. "Uncle Virgil and I visited the place a couple of times, and he still has acquaintances there. I'm sure that once Uncle Virge explains the situation they'll take good care of you until I come back."

  "You send us there and we're dead," Chiggers said flatly.

  "Very possibly," Jack agreed. "Reason enough for you to behave yourselves."

  Harper shifted his shoulders. "Jack—"

  "Have a nice time," Jack said, backing out of the room.

  Draycos didn'
t speak again until they were loading their supplies aboard the patrol ship. "I still don't know what you're planning, Jack," he said. "But I have to agree with Uncle Virge. You may not have thought this through."

  "I'm not all that crazy about it myself," Jack admitted. "But I actually have thought it through. Remember, I was brought up to be a con man. I know how people think."

  "I appreciate your talents in that area," Draycos said. "But none of that will matter once they see you're not Chiggers."

  "There are ways around that," Jack assured him. "Or at least ways to delay the magic moment. The bottom line is that Neverlin's group is on the move and this may be our only chance to hook up with them. If you've got a better idea, I'm all ears.

  "You've already heard my idea: to make a deal with Harper and Braxton," Draycos said. "You've already rejected it."

  "Though not without some regret," Jack said. "I'd love to show up at the rendezvous with a wedge of Braxton Universis Security ships behind me. But I don't trust Harper or Braxton."

  "So you've said." Draycos gave a quiet sigh. "Very well. If we're going to do this, we'd best be on our way."

  Jack took a deep breath. "Yeah."

  CHAPTER 10

  The next four days went by quickly. Far too quickly for Draycos's taste.

  Heading into battle was nothing new for him. Heading into battle without knowing everything his commander was planning also wasn't new.

  But this was different. This was heading into a battle where he didn't even know the basic strategy Jack had in mind.

  And never had he fought a battle with so much at risk. So terribly much at risk.

  But worse than the concerns—and, yes, the fears—were the doubts that began to creep into his thoughts. The question of whether, ultimately, the risk he and Jack were taking was even worthwhile.

  After all, the refugee fleet was hardly an easy target. There were fifty-eight escort warships, manned by experienced K'da and Shontine warriors who would be alert for every possible danger. Surely they could defeat Neverlin's force, no matter how many Death weapons the Valahgua had given them.

  But what if they didn't? Neverlin and Frost would hardly be going forward with their plan if they didn't think they had a reasonable chance of success. What if they'd put together such a powerful force that even the refugees' escort was overwhelmed?

  What if they were, in fact, able to destroy the fleet?

  And if that was the case, what would he and Jack be able to do in the face of such a force? Could they get close enough to do anything, let alone to do enough to make a difference?

  Probably not. Almost certainly they would be detected, identified, and killed long before they even got close enough to the attackers to use their new patrol ship's weapons.

  But there was an alternative . . . because Draycos knew now that the K'da on those refugee ships were not, in fact, the last of their kind.

  The Phookas of Rho Scorvi were also of K'da blood. Taneem's experience had shown they could also be K'da in heart and mind.

  But they could never become true K'da without someone to teach them their people's history and heritage. Draycos could be that teacher. And wouldn't that be a better use of his life—and Jack's—than walking uselessly to their deaths?

  It was a persuasive argument. A horribly persuasive argument, and over those four long days Draycos spent many hours struggling with it.

  But in the end there was really no question as to what he had to do. Alison and Taneem were trapped aboard the Advocatus Diaboli, with no one but Jack and Draycos standing between them and their own deaths. Whether Draycos gained or lost—whether he lived or died—K'da warrior ethic demanded that he make every possible effort to save them.

  Besides, how could he presume to teach the Phookas what it meant to be a K'da if he himself had failed this final test?

  By the time the ECHO timer trilled its ten-minute warning Draycos was again at peace. Fifteen minutes from now he might very well be dead, and his host along with him. But he would die with honor, doing what he could to protect those who had put their trust in him.

  He would die a poet-warrior of the K'da.

  "Draycos?" Jack's voice drifted down the corridor from the cockpit. "Come on, buddy. Time to get aboard."

  "Coming," Draycos called back, giving the controls in his chosen weapons blister one final check. Jack wanted them together when the ship came off ECHO, but at the first sign of trouble Draycos would hurry back here where he could man the patrol ship's weapons.

  If he and Jack were going to die, Draycos intended to at least take as many of the enemy with them as possible.

  He reached the cockpit as the ECHO timer was counting out its last twenty seconds. "Come on; come on," Jack said, holding his hand back over his shoulder.

  Draycos set a paw on Jack's palm and slid up the arm of the Malison Ring flight suit the boy had taken from Chiggers. Do you have an attack plan? he thought as he settled into his usual position.

  No, but I have a non-attack plan, Jack thought back. Watch and learn, symby.

  The countdown reached zero. Jack pushed the ECHO lever forward, and the shimmering blue hyperspace sky faded back to star-sprinkled black.

  There, stretched out in front of them, was Neverlin's attack force.

  Draycos lifted his head from Jack's shoulder, studying the ships scattered across his field of vision. There was the Advocatus Diaboli, of course, the luxurious Braxton Universis corporate yacht that Neverlin had run off with. There were the Malison Ring Djinn-90 pursuit fighters, at least twenty of them, formed up in a defensive circle at the fleet's outer edge.

  A large troop carrier was off to one side, probably the ship Neverlin had used to bring those three hundred Brummgas here from Brum-a-dum. Near it was a fueler ship, and Draycos could see the other eleven KK-29 patrol ships from Bentre clustered around it like hatchlings gathered alongside their mother at lunchtime.

  And there was one more ship present, floating a few hundred feet from the Advocatus Diaboli. A large and agonizingly familiar ship.

  It was the Gatekeeper. One of the four ships of Draycos's advance team.

  Jack apparently spotted it at the same time Draycos did. Geez, the boy's startled thought echoed through Draycos's mind. Is that one of your advance team ships?

  It is indeed, Draycos thought back grimly. Suddenly, Neverlin's strategy was as clear as the cold vacuum of space.

  Hey, hey, slow down, buddy, Jack protested into Draycos's sudden flurry of thoughts and speculations. Did you say something about a trap?

  Sorry, Draycos apologized, forcing his mind to slow down. Their telepathic link only worked if he and Jack were thinking directly at each other. Other thoughts could be sensed, but only as a wordless and rather distracting buzz. Yes, it's a trap. But not for us. Do you see all the hull damage, especially in the forward part?

  Yes, Jack thought back, sounding puzzled. I didn't realize Neverlin's team had hit you that hard.

  They didn't, Draycos replied. That damage has been added since the Iota Klestis attack.

  He sensed Jack's sudden flash of understanding. Got it, the boy said. They're going to pretend they're being attacked by the rest of the ships and go running to the refugee fleet for protection.

  Exactly, Draycos confirmed. Many of the Valahgua can speak our language well enough to be mistaken for Shontine. They'll call for help, and the screening warships will almost certainly let them past the defense ring.

  There's no password?

  There are several, Draycos told him. But the Valahgua can feign transmission trouble, or claim that all senior members of the advance team were killed or incapacitated.

  And come to think of it, why shouldn't the warriors believe them? Jack agreed grimly. As far as they know, there isn't a Valahgua for thousands of light-years.

  There was a ping from the control board. "Hey, Chiggers," Driscol's voice came from the speaker. "So you didn't get lost, huh? Too bad. Guess I lose the pool."

  Jack t
ook a deep breath. "Showtime," he muttered, and flipped the transmission switch. "Yeah, and my heart bleeds for you," he replied sarcastically.

  Only somehow, it was no longer Jack.

  Draycos twisted his head around to look up at the boy's face, a wave of disbelief running through him. Jack's face had subtly changed, his eyes gone dark and smoldering with resentment, a cynical twist to his mouth.

  And his voice was Chiggers's voice, matching the mercenary's tone, phrasing, and attitude. It was as if Jack had flipped a switch and somehow become the mercenary.

  "That's not the only thing that'll be bleeding if you don't get your tail over here and fuel up," Driscol warned. "Colonel wants us taking a turn at sentry duty."

  "Colonel's going to have to wait," Jack growled. "I need to dock and get some repair sealant."

  "You still leaking air?"

  "No, now I'm leaking calozyne," Jack told him.

  "Calozyne?" Driscol echoed, a sudden catch in his voice.

  "Yeah, calozyne," Jack said impatiently. "You want me to spell it for you?"

  "You sure it's not just your breath?"

  "Smells more like your butt," Jack countered.

  There was another click from the speaker. "Chiggers, this is Borkrin," Sarge's voice came on the line. "What's this about a calozyne leak?"

  "It's a calozyne leak," Jack said. "What do you want me to say about it?"

  "How about starring with how bad it is?" Sarge growled. "You need us to set you up an isolation bay?"

  "Oh, frunge, no," Jack scoffed. "It's not going to kill anyone. But it's eating the lining off my nose, and I used all my sealant on the air leak. Can you set me a port with the Advocatus Diaboli?"

  "Oh yeah, right," Sarge said with a snort. "Like the colonel and Mr. Neverlin want to smell it. Get yourself over to the Foxwolf. I'll have Reinking set you up a docking port there."

  "Copy," Jack said, and tapped his transmission key, cutting off the radio. He took another deep breath; and as he did so, the resentful expression smoothed away. "I think we're in," he said. His voice, too, was back to normal.