Dragonback 02 Dragon and Soldier (25 page)

"Take us behind the Shamshir buildings," Draycos instructed.
Snatching the MP-50 from Jack's hands, he headed aft, loping along on
three legs as he hugged the machine gun to his belly with the other.

"Right," Jack said, sending the transport around again in a smooth
curve. He caught a glimpse of the darkened mine buildings as he swung
past, and then they were sweeping back toward the firefight.

There was a fresh sound of wind behind him. He glanced back, saw
that Draycos had opened the left-hand hatchway door and was crouching
beside it. "Better use the safety harness," Jack called.

"I will be all right," the dragon replied. "Just keep your flight
movements smooth."

Jack turned back to his flying, feeling his stomach trying hard to
turn itself inside out. Now that the element of surprise was gone, the
Shamshir weren't going to just sit there and let the intruder take
potshots at them.

And indeed, the transport's bow and windscreen were already
starting to crackle with the impact of bullets. Biting down hard on his
lip, trying to remember Draycos's optimistic assumptions about the
Lynx's armor, he forced himself to ignore the deadly hail and to keep
his head high enough to see where he was going. From the rear he could
hear the chatter of Draycos's gun as they buzzed past the building.

And then, even as he cautiously lifted his head, the landscape
ahead of him suddenly flared with light.

For that first awful second, he thought the Shamshir had blown up
the Flying Turtle, killing the rest of his squad. Heart pounding in his
ears, he swung the Lynx around.

It hadn't been the Flying Turtle that had blown up. Instead, it
was one of the Agri hardened-mud huts that was now blazing furiously
away. The very hut, in fact, that he'd been locked into after his
little chat with Lieutenant Cue Ball.

The hut that had contained, among other things, grenades and spare
ammunition.

"Did it work?" Draycos asked. He was at Jack's side now, peering
over his shoulder.

"I don't know," Jack said. "How exactly was it
supposed
to
work?"

The dragon's tongue flicked out. "Like so."

To Jack's amazement, the Shamshir soldiers were on the move. Not
toward the transport, like they had decided to rush it, but away.

All of them. Running away from the two buildings like the whole
Whinyard's Edge was after them.

Jack cleared his throat. "You think they're running because of the
risk of burning explosives next door?" he asked carefully.

"Of course," Draycos said, a distinct note of satisfaction in his
voice.

"Not maybe because there might be something else in the hut?" Jack
went on. "Something maybe a little nastier than grenades?"

"I—" Draycos broke off. "I do not know."

"Me, neither," Jack said grimly. "What do you say we get the squad
aboard and get out of here?"

"Agreed," Draycos said. Setting his gun onto the deck, he leaped
up and vanished down the back of Jack's shirt. "And Jack?"

"Yes?"

The dragon's head rose a little from his shoulder. "Do not land us
too close to the fire. Just in case."

Jack put the Lynx down between the burning hut and the squad's
chosen Flying Turtle. "Jommy?" he shouted through the open hatchway
before stepping into view. "It's Jack Montana. Don't shoot."

"Okay," Jommy called back. "Come on."

Jack hopped down from the door. "Everyone okay?" he called as he
hurried toward them.

"So far," Jommy grunted. "Though if Kayna can't get this thing
started, that could change real fast."

"I told him it was you," Rogan piped up. The smaller boy was
shaking where he lay, but he held his gun bravely at the ready. "I told
him. He didn't believe me."

"Don't worry, I wouldn't have believed you, either," Jack said,
jerking his head back toward his transport. "Come on— everybody get
aboard and let's get out of here."

"We won't get far in that one," Li warned. She gestured over
Jack's shoulder with the muzzle of her Gompers. "They got your tanks."

Jack turned and looked. Sure enough, there was a ragged gash in
the side of the transport that was leaking fuel like a miniature
waterfall. "We'll have to take yours, then," he said. "You said
Alison's in there?"

"Yeah," Jommy said, glancing around. "She
said
she could
get it started."

"I'll give her a hand," Jack said, slinging his MP-50 over his
shoulder. "Keep a sharp eye. When the Shamshir ran off, I don't think
they were really giving up."

He found Alison in the pilot's seat, muttering darkly at the
control board. "How's it going?" Jack asked, coming up beside her.

"It's frozen solid," she growled, throwing him a curious look. "So
you came back, huh?"

"That's the rumor, anyway," Jack said, leaning over her shoulder
to try a couple of keys. It was frozen, all right. "What have you
tried?"

"What, are you an expert on computer systems?"

"On breaking into them, yes," Jack shot back, trying to think. The
good news was that the computer setup was probably similar to the Edge
system he'd successfully hacked into on the leaking shuttle out there.

The bad news was that whatever Alison had done to it, she'd
probably locked it down so tight that his sewer-rat trick wouldn't work.

Which left them only one option. "We need the start key," he told
her, turning and heading aft. "There ought to be a copy on one of the
computers in the Shamshir HQ. I'll go get it."

She was at his side before he even got to the hatchway. "I'll go
with you," she said, snatching up a machine gun from the floor.

"Forget it," he said, throwing her an annoyed glare. There was a
fair chance there were still some soldiers lurking in the building, and
the last thing he wanted was to have Draycos's freedom of action
cramped by the presence of an unwelcome witness. "Stay here and—"

"And what?" she cut him off. "It won't start. Anyway, two soldiers
together always have a better chance than one."

Jack grimaced. That was probably true . . . except when one of
them had a K'da warrior on his back.

They made it to the HQ building's outer door without anyone
shooting at them. The distant mud hut, Jack noted uneasily, seemed to
be burning even more furiously than it had been when he'd first landed.
He wondered what the blast range was of the grenades Draycos had
spotted in there.

"I'll go first," Alison said. Without waiting for argument she
ducked inside. Setting his teeth firmly together, Jack followed.

No one shot at them in here, either. In fact, for all they could
tell, the whole place was indeed deserted. "I don't like this," Jack
murmured as they eased along the darkened corridor. "They shouldn't
all
have run. Should they?"

"Depends on what they were running from," Alison said. "Or maybe
what they were running to."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning maybe they're afraid of something in that shed you
torched," she said, peering around an open doorway and then moving on.
"Or maybe they just decided on a tactical retreat."

"Like I said: meaning?" Jack repeated, starting to feel annoyed
again. This wasn't any time to be playing word games.

"Meaning maybe they didn't feel like facing a bunch of Edge combat
transports all alone." She glanced over her shoulder. "There
are
more transports on the way, aren't there?"

Jack shook his head. "Sorry."

Alison's forehead creased, but she merely turned back and
continued on. "Well, the Shamshir don't know that," she pointed out. "I
just hope they don't have any air power of their own on the way. Though
they probably do."

She paused at another doorway and looked in. "Here we go," she
said, and went inside.

The room was small and bare of any ornamentation, Jack noted as he
slipped in behind her. But from the size of the desk, and the amount of
padding on the chair, it looked like they'd found the commanding
officer's office.

With a nice little computer humming away on a corner of the desk.

Alison made a beeline for the computer. Jack brushed past her
elbow and got there first. "Uh-uh," he said firmly, setting his gun
down on the desk and dropping into the chair. "You already messed up
the transport's computer. This one's mine."

She made as if to object, hesitated, then nodded. "Fine," she
said, going back to the doorway and peering cautiously down the hall
with her machine gun ready. "You just better know what you're doing."

"Trust me," Jack said, testing the keys. The computer was still
running, but the owner had remembered to lock it down before making his
tactical retreat. Sewer-rat time. "It'll take a few minutes," he added,
keying in the program.

"Not too many, I hope," she said. "So if you aren't leading a
charge, what
are
you doing here?"

"I came to get you guys out," Jack said. "Or are you going to try
to tell me you didn't need any help?"

"I never turn down free help," she told him tightly. "Especially
right now. If we can't get that transport started, it's going to be a
long walk to anywhere."

"With unhappy Shamshir behind us the whole way," Jack agreed.
"Boy, I'd hate to be in our shoes. How'd you get out, anyway?"

There was just the slightest pause. "The hut they put me in had a
dirt floor," she said. "They'd fastened the other end of my handcuffs
to the leg of one of the shelves.

"Same thing they did to me," Jack said. "Not very imaginative, are
they?"

"Hey, whatever works," she said with a shrug. "Anyway, all I had
to do was dig enough dirt out from under the leg, and I could slip the
handcuff right out. Nice and neat."

"Yeah," Jack said, frowning. Nice and neat, all right.

Except that when they'd locked
him
up, they'd made sure
the handcuff was attached above the bottom shelf. How had she managed
to get that shelf unfastened? "And then you just went around and popped
the others?"

"More or less," she said. "How about you?" I notice
you
even managed to get yourself a transport."

Jack snorted gently. "I have friends."

She frowned across the room at him. "And?"

"That's all," he said. "I have friends."

"What sort of friends does an Edgeman have in a Shamshir camp?"

"You'd be surprised," Jack said. The computer was coming loose
now, and he keyed for a directory. "Anyway, you've got as good a chance
of finding friends here right now as you do in the Whinyard's Edge."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning it turns out our group was thrown to the wolves." He
looked up and caught her eyes in a hard stare. "Thanks to you and your
little midnight visit to the Edge HQ back on Carrion."

Her lip twitched. "So they knew about that."

"Not only did they know about it, they decided to fry your whole
circle of friends along with you," Jack told her. "What were you doing
there that night, anyway?"

"Looking for some information."

"What kind?"

"The kind that's none of your business," she said tartly. "Aren't
you supposed to be breaking into a computer or something?"

"Patience, dear, patience," Jack said. Scrolling down the
pilot/aircraft listing, he found the Flying Turtle section. The
computerized start key . . . there it was. "Here we go," he said,
grabbing a data tube from a stack beside the computer and popping it
in. He keyed for copy, there was a brief hum, and the data tube popped
back out. "Got it," he announced, standing up.

And then, even as he started toward Alison, a strange thought
suddenly struck him. He stopped, his eyes flicking back to the computer
. . .

"What's wrong?" Alison asked.

"Nothing," Jack said, flipping the tube to her. "Go get it
started. I'll be right there."

She caught the tube, her expression suddenly wary. "What kind of
heroics are you thinking about
now
?"

"The kind that are none of your business," he said. "Go on, get
out. That air support could be here any time."

Alison's mouth compressed tightly, but she nodded. "Don't take too
long," she warned, and vanished down the hall.

"Jack?" Draycos murmured from Jack's shoulder. "What are you
doing?"

"Completing my primary mission, as you warrior types would say,"
Jack said, sitting back down at the computer. "Or did you forget why we
came here in the first place?"

The dragon's head rose up out of his jacket. "The Djinn-90
information?"

"Why not?" Jack said, keying for a new directory. "Unless you're
finicky about which mercenary group we get it from."

"I do not know that word." With a bound, the dragon leaped from
Jack's back, landing halfway to the door. "But the meaning is clear. I
will stand guard."

"Good idea," Jack said absently, his full attention on the screen.
Okay; there were the Shamshir's own records. But where were the ones
they kept on other groups? Surely they kept records on other groups.

"Jack?"

"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying," Jack growled. Finally, there it was.
Now all he had to do was find the section on aircraft . . .

"Jack, we must go," Draycos insisted, his tone suddenly urgent.
"We must go
now
."

Jack looked up. The dragon was standing at the door, his tongue
flicking in and out with the speed of a blackjack dealer throwing
cards. "What is it?" he asked, reaching for his gun.

"The taste of death," Draycos said. "Coming from the fire."

Cautiously, Jack sniffed at the air. His own nose couldn't find
anything other than simple basic smoke. "Are you sure?"

"I have tasted many such poisons before," Draycos said, his voice
even more urgent. "Come."

Jack looked back at the computer, a tight feeling in the pit of
his stomach. No—this couldn't be happening. Not twice on the same job.
To have come this close—again!—only to get chased away before he could
finish it?