Dragon And Soldier

by Timothy Zahn

  "No, not really," Jack said. "So who's behind all this?"

  Elkor frowned. "Who's behind all what?"

  "Who's pulling your strings?" Jack amplified. "Who's really after this mine? Is it Cornelius Braxton?"

  Elkor snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. You think someone as big as Braxton would even notice an operation this small?"

  "Arthur Neverlin, then?" Jack persisted.

  "Never heard of him."

  "But then—"

  "No one pulls our strings, kid," Elkor cut him off coldly. "No one but us. If whoever you're working for is thinking about trying to bulldoze his way into this, you can tell him to forget it. Once we've got hold of that mine, it's going to be ours, period. No one else is going to get a piece of it. You got that?"

  "Yeah, I got it," Jack said. So Lieutenant Cue Ball had been right. Neither mercenary group cared a downwind spit about the people they'd been hired to protect. They were in it for the daublite mine, and that was it. "It's so much easier to fight and kill and steal someone else's mine than go dig one yourselves."

  "Mines cost money," Elkor countered. "Lives are cheap. Do the math."

  "Yeah, well, some lives are apparently cheaper than others," Jack said. "That still doesn't explain why you threw Jommy and the rest of them to the wolves along with Alison and me."

  Elkor sniffed. "What's this 'and me' stuff? Kayna was the chief suspect, not you. You were just one of the known contacts."

  Jack blinked. "The what?"

  "She talked to you, Montana," Elkor said patiently. "Grisko told us. Alone, and at length, out on the shooting range. Do I have to draw you a picture?"

  Jack stared at him in disbelief. "Let me get this straight," he said slowly. "Alison has a chat with, say, Rogan Mbusu, maybe about nothing more classified than the lousy food. And suddenly you're just going to throw him away? Just on the off chance that she might have passed secret information to him?"

  "You make the assumption that any of you were worth much to begin with," Elkor said. "You ever hear the term 'cannon fodder'?"

  Jack swallowed hard. "Yes."

  "It's rather out of date, actually," Elkor went on. "No one but a few primitives use real cannon anymore. But the term still applies."

  "Kind of an expensive hobby," Jack murmured. "You still have to pay all of our indenture fees."

  "You should read the contract more closely sometime," Elkor suggested blandly. "There are all sorts of neat clauses that cover death or capture in a war zone when the subject has failed to properly defend himself. Another good reason to bring you out here instead of dealing with you back on Carrion."

  He lifted his eyebrows. "You did fail to defend yourselves, didn't you? I hadn't heard any reports of gunfire."

  For a long moment Jack just looked at him, wondering what Draycos would say if he reached over and pushed the smug son of a snake out of the tree. Uncle Virgil would have, he suspected. Even Draycos, for all his warrior ethic, was crouched there with his eyes burning like those of an avenging angel. He probably wouldn't lift a single claw to save scum like this.

  He took a deep breath. No. He'd never been a killer, or even an avenger. He'd been a thief; and even there he was supposed to be reformed.

  And he was probably selling Draycos short anyway. The dragon had gotten that look in his eye before, and he hadn't murdered anyone yet.

  "You are a small, petty, pathetic little man," he told Elkor quietly. "You deserve to die. With any justice, it'll be at the hands of your own people."

  Elkor's mouth twitched in a lopsided smile. "So you don't even have the guts to kill me, huh? You're no soldier, Montana. You never will be."

  "I can live with that," Jack told him. "Incidentally, I have lived in the real world, sometimes among people who would have pushed you out of this tree ten minutes ago if you'd done this to them."

  Elkor snorted. "If you're hinting that you've got friends, save it," he said. "I don't scare that easily."

  "I'm not trying to scare you," Jack said. "And none of them are my friends. I was simply pointing out that none of them ever tried to kill the casual acquaintances of people they were mad at. Even they had more class than that."

  "Did I say I needed your approval?" Elkor asked. "Or even wanted it?"

  "Hardly," Jack said, suddenly thoroughly weary of this man. "Fine. We're going. Where are your transports?"

  A slight frown creased Elkor's forehead. "Why?"

  "Why do you think?" Jack retorted. "So we can get out of here. Don't worry, I'm not going to steal it. All I want is to use the comm."

  "And you think I'm going to tell you?"

  With a sigh, Jack pulled out the small folding knife from his belt pack. He locked it open and waved it under Elkor's eyes. "That cable you're tied with is pretty tough," he reminded the other. "Even with this, it'll take you quite awhile to cut through it. Would you rather use your teeth?"

  Elkor eyed the knife. "They're on the west side of the outpost," he muttered. "In a clearing about two hundred yards due west of the sentry cage on that side. But you'll never make it past the guards."

  "We'll take our chances." Reaching up, Jack drove the tip of the knife blade into the tree trunk a couple of feet above Elkor's head. "Help yourself after we're gone," he said, pulling the colonel's hood over his eyes again.

  Catching Draycos's eye, he nodded. "Come on, buddy," he said. "Let's go."

  They headed down the tree, Draycos climbing down backwards as Jack dangled onto his tail beneath him. They reached the ground without incident and headed off through the woods toward the area where Elkor had said the transports were located. If they weren't there, Jack promised himself darkly, he would make sure to send Draycos back up the tree and get his knife back.

  "Then the disturbance outside the training camp was a diversion for Alison's benefit?" Draycos murmured as they slipped through the trees.

  Jack blinked, forcing himself back from half-hoped-for scenarios of revenge. "What? Oh. Yeah, I suppose that makes the most sense. I wonder who she's working for."

  "We had already decided it was not the Shamshir," Draycos reminded him. "Could it be a different mercenary group?"

  Jack frowned. With his own chances of escape weighing heavily on his mind, the last thing he was interested in right now was Alison Kayna's possible background and friends. Still, it was an intriguing question. "I don't think so," he told the dragon slowly. "With all that's happening here, it would make sense for the Shamshir to send in whoever they had handy to grab some quick information about the Edge's plans for Sun-right. But any other mere group ought to be able to take the time to find an adult to use as a spy instead of a kid."

  Draycos seemed to digest that. "Then who is she working for? Were we wrong about her connection to the Shamshir?"

  "I don't know," Jack said as a sudden and very unpleasant thought sent a creepy sensation tingling across the back of his neck. "You don't suppose she might be working for Neverlin, do you?"

  "I thought we decided he was too busy hiding from Braxton to bother us."

  "You decided that," Jack countered, "I never did."

  The dragon twitched his tail. "I do not believe Neverlin could have moved this quickly," he said firmly. "And how could he have known we would be joining this particular mercenary group? Alison was clearly already signed up before we arrived."

  "I suppose," Jack conceded reluctantly. "Yeah, you're probably right."

  But the creepy sensation refused to fade completely away.

  They were making their cautious way around the perimeter of the outpost before Draycos spoke again. "Where are we going?"

  "Weren't you listening?" Jack asked. "We're going to find a transport, you're going to knock out whatever guards there are, and we're going to whistle up the Essenay."

  "We are leaving, then?"

  Jack grimaced. "Look, Draycos, I'm sorry," he said. "It just didn't work out. We'll back off, regroup, and try to get the Djinn-90 data some other way."

  "I was not t
hinking about the information," Draycos said. "I was thinking about those still in Shamshir hands."

  "What about them?"

  "Did you intend to simply leave them there?"

  Jack frowned down at the dragon padding soundlessly through the dead leaves at his side. Uh-oh. "Hey, I know how you feel about that sort of thing," he said cautiously. "K'da warrior ethic, and all that. But I think that asking Colonel Elkor for a rescue party is pretty much out of the question."

  "Certainly," Draycos agreed. "That means we will have to do it alone."

  Jack took a careful breath. "Look," he said, as if talking to a very small child. "I know you're upset. But you have to understand the realities of the situation. We're talking about two of us—you and me—against a whole mercenary force."

  "Dahtill City is not a military base," Draycos pointed out. "There will be a limit on the number of soldiers to oppose us."

  "Unless they brought in more after our escape," Jack countered. "They could have, you know."

  "If more soldiers were summoned, it would be to search for you outside the city," the dragon pointed out reasonably. "Not to reinforce those inside."

  Jack clenched his teeth. This was not going well at all. "We hardly even know these kids," he said. "Anyway, it's Alison's fault they're there, not mine."

  "Fault is of no matter," Draycos said. "They are your comrades. Your fellow soldiers. A warrior does not simply abandon those of his own side. Not when there is a chance of saving them."

  "Even if it means getting killed?" Jack shot back harshly. "We could, you know. Those guns of theirs weren't just for show. We go charging in, and they're going to start shooting. What happens to your people then? Hmm?"

  For a long minute they walked in silence. "Do you remember our first meeting, Jack?" Draycos asked at last. "Despite your objections, I took the time to aid a wounded soldier of the other side."

  "You kept him from burning his hands and neck in hot dirt," Jack said, grimacing at the memory. "And I still think it was a waste of time."

  "The point is that a warrior does that which is right," the dragon said. "Not because he may profit from it. Because it is right."

  "What if I say no?" Jack challenged. "Are you going to go in without me?"

  Draycos didn't answer, and after a moment Jack sighed. "You got a plan?"

  "I do not believe it will be difficult," Draycos said. "As you pointed out, neither side wishes to risk a serious battle near the daublite mine. With two armed vehicles, we may be able to persuade them to surrender the prisoners without a fight."

  It could work, Jack realized grudgingly. Particularly if Lieutenant Cue Ball had already discovered that none of the squad could do anything with the stolen computers. There wouldn't be much point in hanging onto them. "You mentioned two transports. You planning on flying the second one yourself?"

  "I actually referred to only one transport," Draycos said. "The other armed vehicle will be the Essenay."

  "And how do you expect to call in Uncle Virge without everyone from here to Dahtill City knowing the plan?"

  "You may leave that to me," Draycos said. "Will you assist me?"

  Jack sniffed. "Do I have a choice?"

  "Yes," Draycos said quietly. "You are my host. If you refuse to help me rescue the others, I will honor your wishes."

  "That's part of the warrior ethic, too, I suppose?"

  "Yes."

  They walked a few more steps in silence. "You're going to make a liar of me, you know," Jack finally said in resignation. "I told Colonel Elkor we weren't going to steal his transport. Now we're going to do it anyway."

  "Do not worry," Draycos assured him. "When you made that statement, it was indeed the truth. There was no intent to deceive. Hence, there was no lie."

  Jack looked down at him. "That was supposed to be a joke."

  The dragon turned his green eyes upward, his jaws opening slightly. "Yes, I know," he said. "Shall we go?"

  Jack shook his head. "Lead the way."

  Chapter 24

  There were two soldiers standing guard beside the Lynx transports when Jack and Draycos arrived at the edge of the clearing. Two minutes later, the guards were no longer standing.

  "Can you start the engines?" Draycos asked as Jack dropped into the pilot's seat.

  "I think so," Jack said, studying the control board. "But it'll take a couple of minutes. This pilot was smart enough to lock it down before he left."

  "Your sewer-rat technique?"

  "A version of it, yes," Jack said, keying in the program and then taking a moment to peer out the cockpit windscreen. So far there weren't any other Edgemen in sight. But that could change at any time.

  "What about communications?"

  "The comm isn't locked," Jack said doubtfully. "But I still don't know how you're going to tell Uncle Virge anything without bringing the whole Shamshir army down on top of us."

  "You shall see," Draycos said. "Will you make the correct settings?"

  Jack reached over and tuned the equipment to his comrn clip's frequency. "Okay, it's set," he said, pointing to the microphone switch. "Punch that, and you're on the air."

  "Understood," Draycos said, leaning his torso up onto the control board. "You must stay quiet while I speak. Both Shamshir and Whinyard's Edge listeners may recognize your voice."

  Jack nodded. "Got it."

  Reaching over, Draycos touched the switch. "Until the brave achieve their rest," he called, his voice deep and formal, "the warrior must put forth his best. And to the last our home defend."

  Jack blinked. He knew that tone. Knew it all too well. It was the rather pretentious style Draycos liked to use when reciting his poetry.

  What in the world was he doing?

  Uncle Virge must have been wondering that, too. For a handful of seconds there was no response. Then, to Jack's amazement, the computer's voice came over the speaker, in the same overbearing tone. "The warfire blazes all around, the killing fields do beckon," he announced. "By curve or straight-line reckon?"

  "The dog tells all; the fires blast," Draycos responded. "Until the fury's spent at last."

  There was another pause, a longer one this time. "You speak in riddles in my ear," Uncle Virge said. "While all is dark and dank and drear, how can one silence fears unseen?"

  "By what foul deed is treason learned?" Draycos came back. "By what hand are we crushed? The fields and vineyards hushed."

  "They held it strong against our might," Uncle Virge said. "But through the desert we did go, and took it ere the fall of night."

  "The scoffers say we face the night," Draycos came back. "That none shall from that road return. The scoffer's words and fears I spurn."

  "The world will tremble, warns the foe," Uncle Virge said. "And all will fall like burning leaves. To stand, though none endure to grieve."

  With a delicate flick of his claw, Draycos shut off the comm. "How soon may we leave?" he asked.

  Jack had been staring at the dragon in fascination. Now, with an effort, he tore his eyes away and found the status board. "Uh ... we're ready now, looks like."

  "Then let us be away," Draycos said. "The Essenay will meet us at Dahtill City."

  Jack cut in the lifters, and the transport started up into the night sky. No one appeared at the edge of the clearing as he cleared the treetops, shouting at him to come back. Even better, no one showed up and started shooting.

  The nav system included a map of the local area. Jack studied it a moment, then turned the transport's nose toward Dahtill City. He did a quick sensor scan of the sky around them, but no one was visible there, either. Apparently, everyone was still out searching for him.

  "We are on course?" Draycos asked.

  "Sure," Jack said, leaning back in his seat and looking over at the dragon. "Okay, I give up. What in the name of self-buttering brussels sprouts was that all about?"

  "I was giving him information on our destination," the dragon said blandly. "Did I not say I would do so?"

&
nbsp; "Don't be cute," Jack growled. "It's not a good night for it. Just tell me what you did."

  Draycos ducked his head. "My apologies. As I have mentioned, I have been translating my poetry into your language and reciting it to Uncle Virge."

  Jack frowned, thinking back over the conversation he'd just heard. It had sounded like poetry, all right. But there had been something wrong with it. Something odd about the pacing, or the flow, or the rhyme scheme ...

  And then it hit him. "You were missing a line," he said. "Each stanza of the poem was missing a line."

  Draycos's neck arched. "Very good," he said. "I am impressed."

  "Thank you," Jack said, rather pleased by it himself. "And the missing line was the message?"

  "Exactly," Draycos said. "The complete first stanza that I spoke should have been: 'Until the brave achieve their rest, the warrior must put forth his best. Come here to me, my oldest friend, and to the last our home defend.' "

  Jack thought back. "The third line was missing," he said. " 'Come here to me, my oldest friend.' "

  "Correct," Draycos said. "Uncle Virge is not precisely my oldest friend, but it was the closest line I knew to what we needed."

  "Definitely close enough," Jack agreed. "Especially since he's pretty much my oldest friend. What about the others? Uncle Virge said something next about warfire?"

  "'The warfire blazes all around, the killing fields do beckon,' " Draycos recited. " 'How shall my warrior friend be found? By curve or straight-line reckon?' "

  " 'How shall my warrior friend be found,' "Jack repeated the missing line. "He wanted to know where we were."

  "Correct," Draycos said. "As you can see, he understood quickly what I was doing."

  "Uncle Virgil always was a smart old fox," Jack agreed. "Your next one was shorter, wasn't it?"

  "Yes," Draycos said. "It was the only one that did not come from one of my poems. I created it on the moment to identify the place where we were headed."

  Jack gazed out at the stars, thinking back. The dog tells all; the fires blast. Until the fury's spent at last. It didn't make any more sense to him the second time around than it had the first. "You got me," he said.