by Timothy Zahn
The other end of the control cable was still connected to the sensor. He gave it a quick examination, confirming that he could operate the mechanical linkage with his claws, then wrapped the end around a branch for safekeeping. Hoisting the coil of sensor cable over his shoulder, he leaped across to the sentry-cage tree, the one the round Argus monitors were attached to. He worked his way around the trunk, then jumped to the next tree over.
He'd noticed this type of tree earlier that evening during his brief search for enemy soldiers. It had two very different types of branches: one of them solid and unyielding, the other equally solid but far more flexible and springy. Choosing one of the second type, he tied one end of his sensor cable to it and threw the rest of the coil back over to the Argus tree.
Leaping back to the Argus tree himself, he got a firm grip on the trunk and began to pull on the cable, bending the springy branch back toward him.
The farther he bent it, naturally, the more resistant it became to being bent any farther. It took every bit of his strength, plus some very fancy claw work, to finally work it all the way into position.
But finally he had it in place. Tying the center of the cable to one of the Argus tree's thickest branches with a quick-release knot, he gathered up the remainder of the coil and leaped back to the puff-top tree on the other side. Climbing up to the third layer of branches, he moved a few feet along one of the thicker limbs to a conveniently placed fork. Looping his end of the cable around it, he returned the coil to his shoulder and jumped back to the Argus tree.
He could hear the sound of footsteps now, several sets of them, coming from the direction of the Kilo Seven outpost. Most were the cautious movements of the patrol soldiers he'd evaded earlier, but one was the slightly noisier tread of a senior officer who had perhaps forgotten proper sneaking technique.
The line commander, it seemed, had finally decided to join his men in the field. Fortunately, the trap was nearly set.
He climbed down the Argus tree with what remained of his coil, taking care that the cable not get hung up on any of the branches. At the lowest layer of branches—with this type of tree, they were no more than eight feet above the ground— he pulled the cable taut and tied another quick-release knot connecting it to a branch.
That left him perhaps ten feet of loose cable. He tied a slipknot loop in the end, draped it out of sight across two branches, then climbed back to his first quick-release, the one holding the springy branch taut. A gentle pull released it, and there was a soft twanging sound as the rest of the cable took up the tension.
For a moment he crouched there in the upper branches, tracing the cable with his eyes, making sure he'd gotten everything exactly as he'd planned. From the bent springy branch, through the edge of the Argus tree to the puff-top tree. Looped around a third-level branch there, back to the Argus tree, quick-release knot at the lowest branches, the rest in a slipknotted loop.
Perfect.
Leaping once more to the puff-top, he retrieved the control cable and returned one last time to the Argus tree. Moving down the trunk, he set himself on the far side from his approaching opponents, hiding in a thick clump of leaves.
And everything was now ready. Everything, that was, except for the one unknown still in the equation. The question of whether the commander and his men would behave as expected.
There was no way for him to know. No way even for him to guess, really, at least not with any certainty. Human reflexes he understood; human eyesight, too, and hearing and stamina and strength.
But in many ways, human ways of thinking were still foreign to him. Their ways of thinking, and their behavior, and their basic fundamental reactions.
And if he had guessed wrong, all his effort would have been for nothing.
Still, he'd gone this far. He might as well see it through. Besides, Jack surely understood his own species; and hadn't Jack agreed that these people didn't act like true soldiers?
Peering around the side of the trunk, he could see the approaching group as they moved cautiously through the trees toward him. There were five in all: four patrol soldiers plus the one who didn't step as cautiously as his companions.
Like the others, the latter's face was obscured by the half-helmet he was wearing to support his night-vision equipment. From his build, though, Draycos could see that it wasn't Sergeant Grisko.
Pity. After Grisko's part in the betrayal and attack on the transport, he would rather have liked to deal with that one personally.
The group was nearly to the sentry cage now. Keeping his movements small, Draycos dug his claws delicately into the meshed steel lines inside the control cable and gently tugged.
There was no reaction from the Edgemen. Draycos tugged again, this time risking a quick look over at the half-hidden sensor. It was moving, all right, turning slowly back and forth.
Still no response. Draycos tried again, beginning to think unkind thoughts about his opponents' competence. He could see the faint reflection glinting from the sensor's face. Why couldn't they?
And then, just as he was wondering whether he should give up the effort, one of the soldiers spotted it. He snapped his arm up, his fingers rapidly tracing out hand signals Grisko had never bothered to teach Jack and his fellow recruits.
The four patrol soldiers responded with all the smooth efficiency of professionals. Without fuss or hesitation, they drifted to both sides as they continued forward, moving to flank whoever it was watching them from beneath the bush.
The fifth man did not join them. Instead, he eased into the sentry cage and stopped, watching nervously from behind the Argus tree.
Draycos felt his jaws crack in an ironic smile. So he and Jack had been right. A true warrior line commander would have gone with his men into danger, taking the same risks they did so that he could issue prompt and reasonable orders if it became necessary.
Instead, this commander was hiding from the danger. Sending his men into the unknown was all right, but he wasn't willing to even get his own scales dusty.
As a warrior, Draycos could feel only contempt for such behavior. But as the man's opponent, he could feel an equally strong satisfaction.
Because in his effort to protect himself, the commander now stood directly behind the very tree Draycos was clinging to.
Exactly where Draycos wanted him. The control cable had served its purpose. Laying it aside, Draycos got a good grip with his left forepaw on the slip-knotted loop of sensor cable. Beside him was the quick-release knot that held the whole thing in place. Carefully, he eased the tip of his tail into the release loop.
The patrol soldiers were closing on the sensor now. Draycos waited; and abruptly, one of them snorted. "Cute," he murmured. "It's one of our own Argus eyes, sir. No one there."
"But I saw it moving," one of the others insisted.
"So did I," the first confirmed, hefting his gun as he looked around. "And the slapstick Barkin spotted on the scan is here, too. Probably bait. Like I said, someone's being cute." "Trace the cable," the commander ordered in a hoarse whisper. "Find him."
"Yes, sir," the first soldier said, moving toward the Argus eye as the others fanned out toward the surrounding trees.
The commander hesitated another moment. Then, cautiously, he slipped out from behind the Argus tree. Either getting his courage back, or else simply unwilling to get too far away from the protection of his men and their weapons. Circling the trunk, he started toward them.
And in that fraction of a second, as he passed beneath Draycos, the K'da warrior struck.
Releasing his rear claws, he dropped to the same level as the commander's head before grabbing hold of the tree again.
With his right forepaw he slashed the chin strap holding the man's helmet in place, and in the same motion flicked the helmet up and off his head.
Reflexively, the commander grabbed for the helmet as it spun away into the night. Draycos was ready with the loop, dropping it over his head and arms and giving it a quick tug to tighten th
e slipknot around his ribs. At the same time, he slammed his right paw against the side of the commander's head behind his ear, a spot that experience had showed was a good place to knock out a human without too much risk of serious damage.
And even as the commander sagged unconscious in the loop of cable, Draycos flicked the quick-release with his tail and dropped to the ground.
The quiet of the night was abruptly shattered. As the cable tension was suddenly released, the springy tree branch off to Draycos's right snapped back to its original position. It slapped and scattered all the other branches in its way as it moved, sending a small shower of leaves fluttering to the ground.
The unconscious commander, tied to the other end of the cable, went the other direction. Shooting up and to the left, he disappeared up into the puff-tree's branches.
The soldiers, facing the wrong direction, saw none of it. But they could hear just fine; and as they spun back around they could see the shower of leaves drifting down from the springy tree. "Sir!" one of them snapped.
"He's gone!" someone else barked. "What the—?"
"Over there," the first soldier said, pointing toward the springy tree with his gun. "Barkin, Schmidt—check it out. Watch for more booby traps. Tomasaki, keep your eyes open. It might be a diversion."
Two of the soldiers ran toward the springy tree, alternately peering up into the branches and watching the ground where they were walking. The other two crouched low where they were, facing opposite directions with their guns held ready.
Keeping to the cover of the underbrush, Draycos crept out of the sentry cage and made a wide circle back toward the puff-top tree. The patrol soldiers knew their business, all right. They'd quickly guessed the style of snare trap he'd just sprung on their commander.
The only trouble was, they were looking for him in the wrong tree.
He reached the puff-top tree about the same time they arrived at their own destination. Putting the trunk between him and the two guards, he started up. If either of the soldiers at the springy tree happened to turn around, he knew, they would spot him easily. But with their attention elsewhere, he wasn't expecting either to do so.
And they didn't. He made it to the safety of the branches while they were still staring uselessly skyward.
The commander was hanging limply out of sight among the leaves, bobbing a little as the springy tree branch across the way waved gently in the breeze. Draycos got him up and lying securely across the branches, then cut the cable.
He climbed a little higher into the tree, coiling the cable as he went. He wasn't really expecting the soldiers to go so far as to climb the springy tree in their search for their missing commander. Still, it was a possibility; and if they did, he didn't want them tracing the cable back here. Moving out onto one of the branches, he lobbed the coil across into the upper part of the Argus tree.
"He's not here," one of the soldiers at the springy tree reported.
"That's impossible," the first soldier insisted. "Check it again."
"I did," the other said. "Twice, visual and IR both. He's not up there."
The first soldier swore. "A diversion, all right. Okay, spread out. Let's find him."
"Right. Better call it in."
"No kidding," the first said sarcastically. "Base, this is Hernandez. We've got a problem."
Listening to the conversation with half an ear, Draycos climbed back down to the unconscious commander. The human was wearing two separate comm clips, he discovered. Even with them turned off, they might be traceable.
Easily dealt with. K'da forelegs were too short for him to throw anything that light very far, but there were other ways. Making sure the comm clips were turned off, he placed them together and wrapped them in the tip of his tail. A quick flip, sling-fashion, and they sailed off into the night.
Using the short length of cable still looped under the commander's arms, Draycos tied the human's wrists and ankles. One of his pockets yielded a headband, while another contained a handkerchief. The handkerchief made an adequate gag; the headband was quite suitable for securing the man's hood down over his eyes.
And now all that was left was to wait for the search to burn itself out and move to another area. Crawling onto the underside of the branches, he found himself some convenient claw-grips directly beneath the commander.
After all, the searchers might eventually think to look up into this tree. And as Jack had pointed out, a K'da heat profile did not look anything like a human's.
An hour, he estimated, and he and Jack would be free to move again. Stretching his muscles once, he settled down to wait.
CHAPTER 23
The commander was awake by the time Jack let go of Draycos's tail and got himself seated more or less securely on the branches facing him. "You sure there isn't anyone else around?" he muttered as Draycos climbed around behind the prisoner.
The dragon shook his head, but remained silent. Jack understood; he didn't want the prisoner to hear his voice. "Okay," he said briskly. "Let's get this over with." Grabbing hold of the cable tying the man's wrists together, he started to pull him up into a sitting position.
The other responded by trying to grab Jack's hand. "Hey, hey, take it easy," Jack warned, yanking his hand back out of reach. "Don't struggle or try anything stupid. You're fifty feet off the ground in a very leaky tree."
The man seemed to see the logic in that. He grunted behind his gag and subsided. "All we want is a little chat," Jack went on, pulling him upright again. This time the other didn't struggle. "A quiet little chat," he added. "You try shouting for help and we'll have to shut you up. A fair chance we'll lose your balance in the process. Understand?"
The man grunted again. Jack glanced at Draycos, making sure the dragon was standing ready but out of the prisoner's sight. Then, reaching over, he pulled off the gag.
"Montana?" the other rumbled, his voice the croak of a man with too dry a mouth. He worked his lips a moment and tried again. "It's Montana, isn't it?" he demanded.
Jack started. He knew that voice. "Colonel Elkor?" he asked, pulling off the headband and lifting the man's hood.
It was Colonel Elkor, all right, glaring at Jack like he was trying to push him out of the tree by sheer willpower. "Well, well," Jack said, filling in time as he tried to get his brain rebooted. He'd expected Sergeant Grisko or maybe Lieutenant Basht to be leading this charge. To have a full colonel show up meant this was bigger than he'd thought.
"You're a pretty big fish to be flopping around in this size pond," he went on. "I guess I never saw you as the great outdoors type."
"I wondered about you," Elkor growled. "So is Kayna working for you? Or is it the other way around?"
He started to turn. Draycos batted him warningly against the side of the head and he seemed to think better of the idea. "I'll bet it's Kayna who's calling the shots," he decided. "Who are you working for? The Shamshir, or someone else?"
"This is my interrogation, thanks all the same," Jack said. "But just for the record, I'm not working for anyone."
Elkor snorted derisively. "Right. You just felt like a midnight stroll one night. And then, what, you needed to use the latrine?"
Jack shook his head. "I already told you. The Shamshir sneaked into the camp and captured us. I escaped and—"
"Don't play dumb," Elkor cut him off harshly. "I'm talking about back on Carrion."
"Oh," Jack said, a little lamely. "That."
"Oh. That," Elkor mimicked. "Basht was pretty sure it was Kayna. But I wondered about you. If we'd had time to really check out your application—"
"Wait a second," Jack said, frowning as he thought back on that failed midnight raid. Was he suggesting that had been Alison coming up the stairs? "I'm sorry, but I'm confused here. What does Alison have to do with any of this?"
For the first time Elkor's glare seemed to crack a little. "Are you saying that wasn't you in the HQ building?"
Jack hesitated. Common sense, plus years of Uncle Virgil's tirades on the
subject, said you never gave away information for free. But he was thoroughly lost here, and he had the odd feeling that Elkor wasn't exactly sitting steady on this stack of blocks either. Maybe it would be worth pooling their information a little.
"I did sneak into the HQ, yes," he told Elkor. "I was looking for some computer data. But I had to run for it when someone headed my direction laying down a sopor gas pattern. I assumed at the time it was a guard."
Elkor snorted again. "Trust me, if it had been one of us you would have known it. Sopor gas is for sissies."
"Or for people who don't want anyone knowing they'd been there," Jack pointed out. "So you think that was Alison?"
Elkor regarded him coolly. "So what computer information were you looking for?"
Jack shrugged. "Fine. Have it your way."
He began shaking out the handkerchief he'd taken from around the colonel's mouth. "Even with the gag, I'll bet they'll be able to hear you from down there. Assuming they ever come back to this area to look, of course."
He reached the handkerchief toward Elkor. The other leaned away, then jerked as Draycos caught his head firmly between his forepaws. "Wait a second," he said hastily. "All right, all right. What do you want to know?"
"I want to know what's going on," Jack told him, lowering the handkerchief but keeping it in sight. "You can start by telling me what happened to the rest of the Edgemen at Kilo Seven."
Elkor's lips compressed into a thin line. "We pulled them out," he said grudgingly. "We knew the Shamshir would be raiding the place and didn't want them getting hurt."
"Oh, I see," Jack said. "You didn't care enough about us to even warn us, but—"
He broke off, staring at the man. Suddenly, it was all making terrible sense. "You called the Shamshir down on us, didn't you?" he said. "You let them capture us."
"One of you was a spy and a traitor," Elkor said. "In the Whinyard's Edge, we know how to deal with traitors."
