by Timothy Zahn
"I'll take that as a compliment," Jack said dryly. "Which leaves only five Brummgas to make direct trouble for us. If we instead go with my numbers, we could end up with as many as fourteen."
"Either way, those are not very good odds," Draycos pointed out.
"Either way, those are lousy odds," Jack countered. "But there's not much we can do about it. We need that ship to get out of here."
"You have a plan, then?"
"I'm working on it," Jack said, trying to sound confident. "But there's nothing to be gained by hanging around out here."
Jack straightened up from his crouch; hesitated. "By the way," he said. "I don't think that you—I mean if it is a trap—"
"I will most likely not be able to keep my existence a secret any longer,"
Draycos finished calmly. "Yes, I know."
"Maybe we should try something else," Jack offered, though at the moment he couldn't imagine what that something else would be. "Surrender to Neverlin, maybe, and figure on escaping once we're out of here."
"They will not let you leave without putting poison into your body," Draycos reminded him. "And even if we found a way to avoid that, the slaves we lead would have to remain."
Jack sighed. "You're right."
"Do not be discouraged, Jack," Draycos said. "Even the most precious secret must sometimes give way to a higher purpose. A true warrior must learn when and how to make sacrifices. This is a gamble worth taking."
"Okay." Jack took a deep breath. "Let's do it."
He half expected Gazen to spring the trap while he was still outside the shuttle, on open ground with nowhere to hide. But he made it to the hatchway without anything happening.
For a moment he crouched beside the entry ramp, catching his breath and peering inside. Unlike the military transports of this size he'd flown in, Neverlin's shuttle seemed to be built along the same lines as a miniature spaceship.
Instead of opening into a single large cabin, the hatchway led into a small entry/airlock chamber, with another door leading out of the entryway into the main body of the shuttle. Bracing himself, he went up the ramp.
The trap wasn't waiting in the entry chamber. It wasn't waiting in the corridor that led out of it, either. Jack headed forward through the gloom of the ship's nightlights, listening to his own footsteps whiffing softly through the thick carpet. Could he have been wrong about Gazen's strategy? Could the slavemaster really have missed such an obvious bet?
A few yards ahead the corridor opened into a larger cabin, furnished with three rows of well-spaced, comfy-looking seats. First class all the way. Stepping inside, he continued forward.
And as he reached the middle of the room, it abruptly lit up like a Sirian noon.
CHAPTER 34
Jack threw his arm up to protect his eyes from the light. But even before the arm was in position, his wrist was grabbed and twisted roughly behind his back.
"I told you he couldn't resist the temptation," Neverlin's smooth, snake-like voice came over the scuffling noises of heavy feet suddenly on the move. More hands grabbed at Jack's arms and shoulders, pinning them in place. Bodies smelling like sweaty Brummga pressed against him from all sides, preventing him from using his feet to either run or kick.
"And I told you," Gazen's less civilized voice retorted, "that he was working with that Tubman Group."
Cautiously, Jack eased his eyes open against the glare. Gazen and Neverlin were standing just inside the door at the far end of the cabin, with Neverlin's two bodyguards on either side of their boss. The one Draycos had clobbered earlier had a pressure bandage on his head, a scowl on his face, and a nasty-looking gun in his hand.
"Don't be absurd," Neverlin scoffed. "The Tubman Group? Nonsense. Virgil Morgan and his nephew don't do charity work."
"Then how do you explain all those slaves skulking around out there?" Gazen demanded. "I tell you, he's trying to stir up a revolt."
Slowly, carefully, Jack turned his head. He got only about halfway around before one of the Brummgas noticed the movement and twisted his head to face forward again. But he'd seen enough to figure there were eight Brummgas crowding around him.
Closer to Draycos's estimate than his. Still very lousy odds.
"He just brought them to spread a little chaos in case he needed a diversion,"
Neverlin said. "As far as he's concerned, they're expendables." He cocked an eyebrow at Jack. "Or hadn't you noticed that he didn't actually bring any of them aboard with him?"
"So you don't think they're of any use as bargaining chips?" Gazen asked.
"Not a chance," Neverlin said. "Take them back to their huts, or burn them where they stand. Your choice."
Gazen nodded and reached to his collar—
"Wait," Jack said.
The instant the word was out of his mouth he wished he could call it back.
Gazen surely wouldn't simply kill Maerlynn and the others, at least not here and now.
Even if he decided their actions deserved that, he would more likely have them whipped to death as an object lesson for the rest of the slaves.
But Jack hadn't thought it through quickly enough. And now it was too late.
"Well, well," Neverlin said, smiling smugly. "So he really does have some feeling for those dirty little zeros out there, does he? This is one for the record books."
"Or else he's just squeamish," Gazen rumbled contemptuously. "You should have seen his face after those Wistawki passed him in the kitchen this morning."
"You didn't need to whip them," Jack ground out. "They didn't steal the food.
I did."
Gazen snorted. "Don't make me laugh. You were in the frying pan all night."
"Forget the food," Neverlin said impatiently. "Tell me, Jack. How much do you really care about that riffraff out there?"
"And decide quickly," Gazen added. "I've got a squad at the upper windows with sniper rifles trained on them."
Jack swallowed. The trap had been sprung, and here they were, with all of the Brummgas clustered close around him.
But Draycos was still lying quietly against his skin. What in space was he waiting for?
And then, as he focused again on the group by the door, he suddenly realized what the reason was.
"Oh, yeah, that's real brave," he said, putting as much scorn into his voice as he could. "Shooting unarmed slaves from windows. That's the way a man does business."
"As opposed to whatever you did to my guards out there?" Gazen countered.
"You should be happy I didn't kill them," Jack said, hoping he was right in guessing that Draycos hadn't killed them. "Or Mr. Neverlin's hoppy-pop bodyguard there," he added. "How's your head, pal?"
The bandaged guard made a sound deep in his throat. "Easy, Jondo," Neverlin said. "You'll get your turn." "Yeah, it's always their turn, isn't it?" Jack said contemptuously.
"Bodyguards and Brummgas. You two ever do any of this stuff yourselves? Or do you always hide behind other people?"
Gazen took a step forward. "Listen, kid—"
"Stop it," Neverlin said. His voice was quiet, but there was something in his tone that brought Gazen to a sharp halt. "Don't let him goad you. He's finished, and he knows it."
"He doesn't think I'm finished," Jack said loftily. "He's still afraid of me.
If he wasn't, he wouldn't always be hiding behind his Brummgas. He's a coward; pure, simple, and unfrosted."
He cocked an eye toward the Brummgas in his line of sight. "You know, if I were you, I'd find a better boss to work for."
"Shut up," Gazen snarled.
"Make me," Jack challenged.
Gazen's glare shifted over Jack's shoulder. He sensed a slight movement behind him—
"I said stop," Neverlin snapped. "Are you insane, Gazen? We need him conscious to talk to his uncle."
"Oh, right," Jack said sarcastically. "I'm supposed to talk him into surrendering. Suppose I don't feel like doing that right now?"
"Then your friends outside will die," N
everlin said softly.
Jack gave him a smile he wasn't particularly feeling. "And you think I care?"
For a long minute Neverlin studied his face. Jack met the gaze evenly, his heart pounding in his chest. If they called his bluff—if Gazen started shooting the slaves out there—
"With all due respect, sir," the unbandaged bodyguard murmured, "I don't think we have time for this. Those Djinn-90s could be here any time."
"He has a point, Jack," Neverlin agreed. "We don't want your uncle getting himself killed in a firefight, now, do we?"
"I'm not going to tell him to surrender," Jack said stubbornly. "We've got time on our side. And you don't dare hurt me."
Neverlin shook his head. "For a clever boy, Jack, you have some amazing memory failures. Castan?"
The unbandaged bodyguard slid his gun back into its holster and pulled out a small, flat box. Opening it, he pulled out a hypospray. "The squatter poison,"
Neverlin identified it. "Remember?"
Jack pressed back against his captors, as if trying to cringe away from the hypospray. One of the Brummgas tightened his grip on his arm—
"Ow!" Jack gasped, as if it had really hurt.
"Don't hurt him!" Neverlin snapped.
"I didn't," the Brummga protested, sounding bewildered. "I just—"
Jack hissed again in imaginary pain. "Stop it," Gazen ordered. "You heard Mr.
Neverlin."
"Back off him," Neverlin said. "Just back off."
Reluctantly but obediently, the Brummgas let go of Jack's arms and shuffled a step backward. "Last chance, Jack," Neverlin said. "One way or another, you're going to cooperate."
Jack took a deep breath, straightening as tall as he could. "I don't cooperate with losers," he said.
Neverlin shook his head. "You young fool," he said softly. "Do it, Castan."
The bodyguard started forward again, shifting the hypospray into working position in his hand. Jack hunched down, raising his fists into a boxer's stance. "You keep away from me," he said tightly. "You hear?"
"This is ridiculous," Neverlin said, the smooth coating of his voice cracking with exasperation. "Jondo, go and hold him."
"Yes, sir," the bandaged bodyguard said, taking a couple of quick steps to catch up with his partner, his gun pointed squarely at Jack's stomach. Side by side, the two men approached, the Brummgas backing off another step as they approached.
"Very good, Jack," Draycos murmured.
"You're welcome," Jack murmured back, smiling in satisfaction.
Because now, instead of there being two armed men out of easy reach at the far end of the room, the whole group of enemies were nicely clustered together.
"There you go, buddy," he added as Jondo and Castan stepped up to him. "Have a
good time."
And with a K'da battle scream, Draycos burst from the front of his shirt.
He took out the two bodyguards first, one forepaw slapping hard against their heads in a quick one-two punch. Twisting in midair, he caught Castan in the chest with his rear paws and shoved off him to reverse direction. Almost as an afterthought, his flicking tail sent Jondo's gun sailing across the room to bounce off the side wall.
Jack dropped into a low crouch. He'd had a vague plan of slipping out of the center of the fight and trying to get one of the bodyguards' guns so he could give Draycos some help.
But there was no need for a plan. Draycos was way beyond any need of help.
Once before, Jack had seen his new partner in combat, fighting a group of scavenger heenas in the Vagran Colony Spaceport. He had thought then that he was seeing the dragon at his full potential.
He'd been wrong. He'd been terrifyingly wrong.
It was as if someone had dropped a black-scaled threshing machine on top of the Brummgas. Draycos was everywhere, leaping and diving and twisting across their heads and shoulders like an insane cat on hot metal. He never seemed to touch the same Brummga more than once. But each time he did, his claws slashed, or his paws slammed, or his tail whipped.
And when the Brummga fell, he didn't get up again.
They never had a chance. This kind of fighting wasn't in any of their training manuals, and there was no time to improvise. Drawn slapsticks were knocked aside; hastily drawn guns were ducked beneath.
And the attack went on. They didn't know how to stop him, or how to get out of his way. They never even knew which direction he would be coming from next, as he shoved randomly off their fellow soldiers or the ceiling into each new attack.
It was over almost before Jack could catch his breath. Certainly it was over before he could move. The last Brummga slammed backward to the deck; and with a
final spin and leap, Draycos again shot past overhead. Jack spun around, suddenly remembering Gazen and Neverlin.
He needn't have worried. Both men were still by the door, frozen in place like a
pair of well-formed ice sculptures. Draycos was standing on the deck in front of Gazen, stretched up on his hind paws with his head so close to the slavemaster's that his snout nearly touched the other's nose.
One set of claws pressed against the side of Gazen's neck.
Jack cleared his throat. In the sudden deadly silence, the noise sounded like distant thunder. "If I were you, gentlemen," he advised, "I'd be real careful right now."
"Mother of..." Neverlin whispered, the words trailing off as he stared at Draycos. His eyes flicked to Jack, back to the K'da. "But it's..."
"It's a poet-warrior of the K'da," Jack confirmed. Stepping over to Castan's limp body, he pulled out the bodyguard's gun. "You and the Valahgua missed one."
Neverlin twitched violently at the name Valahgua. He threw another look at Jack, then focused again on Draycos.
And suddenly, the stunned and disbelieving panic vanished. "So it was you," he said, his voice almost calm again. "You were the boy who escaped us on Iota Klestis."
"Right again," Jack said, stepping up and pressing his borrowed gun into Neverlin's stomach. "Either of you carrying any weapons? Or shall I ask Draycos to search you?"
"What is this?" Gazen hissed. Unlike Neverlin, he was trembling visibly.
But then, Neverlin didn't have K'da claws pressing against his throat. "This is your life in your hands," Jack told him, taking the slavemaster's extendable slapstick from its holster. "How badly do you want to live today?"
Gazen swallowed hard. "What do you want?"
"Let's start by telling your snipers to back off," Jack said. "I want those slaves out there free to join me without getting shot."
Slowly, Gazen reached toward the comm clip on his shoulder. He stopped short as Draycos gave a soft warning growl. "It's all right, Draycos," Jack soothed.
"Gazen wouldn't try to pull a fast one by using code words or anything like that. He'll give the right order, and all the Brummgas will go away, and everyone will live through this. Isn't that right, Gazen?"
The slavemaster's eyes flicked past Draycos to the Brummgas lying in crumpled heaps on the deck. "Yes," he whispered.
"There, you see?" Jack said. "Okay, Gazen, go ahead. Oh, and you will make it sound like everything's all right out here, won't you? Like this is just a simple, minor change in the plan?"
Gazen took a deep breath. "Of course."
The performance was not exactly up to Stellar Award standards. But it was probably good enough. Especially since most of those on the far end would be Brummgas.
"Good," Jack said after he'd shut off Gazen's comm clip and slipped it into his own pocket. "Now, I guess the question is what exactly to do with you."
Beside him, Draycos's ears twitched. "Listen," he said.
Jack strained his ears. "What is it?"
"The sound of weapons fire," Draycos said grimly. "The fighters have arrived."
CHAPTER 35
Like the rest of the shuttle, the cockpit was a miniature version of a larger spaceship's flight deck. It was a three-seater, too, with copilot and system monitor stations in addition t
o the usual pilot's chair.
"Have a seat," Jack ordered his two prisoners as he closed the cockpit door halfway and slid into the pilot's station. "This'll only take a minute."
"You really think you have that long?" Neverlin asked.
Jack peered out the canopy, a tight knot in the pit of his stomach. The two Djinn-90s had indeed arrived, and were engaged in combat with the Essenay.
And for all the Essenay's speed and Uncle Virge's computerized skill, it was clear the ship was fighting for its life. It wove and dodged madly through the sky, trying to stay out of the fighters' sights while at the same time having to keep from straying over the deadly wall.
And for the moment, at least, there was nothing Jack could do to help.
Tearing his eyes away from the view, he started keying in the sewer-rat program.
"I say we let them take him out," Gazen said blackly. "The kid and his uncle have become way more trouble than they're worth. There has to be another safecracker somewhere you can use for this job."
"I'm sure there is," Neverlin agreed. "But I have no intention of letting Virgil Morgan die before he's told us who else knows about this."
"What do we need Morgan for?" Gazen argued. "We've got the kid, right?"
"You've got a really strange definition of ownership," Jack put in, keying the last part of the sequence. Now it was simply a matter of waiting for the program to do its job.
"You can't escape, you know," Gazen warned. "Sooner or later, they'll come out here and close you down."
"Like your other Brummgas did?" Jack asked pointedly.
"Sheer weight of numbers will eventually take you down," Neverlin said calmly.
"Even a K'da warrior can only do so much."
"You might be surprised," Jack said, trying to match the other's confidence.
The computer locking system was starting to waver now under the sewer-rat's attack.
Should be any minute. "But no matter what happens here, you're still in big trouble."
"Really," Neverlin said. "How do you figure that?"
"Because your bid to grab control of Braxton Universis has gone smokers,"
Jack told him. "That means that when you go up against the main K'da and Shontine refugee fleet, you won't have the Braxton security forces to draw on."
