Dragonback 02 Dragon and Soldier (9 page)

"We have eight hundred troops, sir," she said, more firmly this
time.

"And the Shamshir?" Basht asked, his eyes finally focusing on
Jack. "Montana?"

Jack braced himself to follow Li down in flames. But even as he
opened his mouth to tell Basht he didn't know, there were seven rapid
pinpricks on the back of his forearm, the urgent tapping of a K'da
claw. "They have seven hundred, sir," he said, hoping he was reading
Draycos's signal right.

He held his breath. Basht's eyes flicked again to Li, as if
silently pointing out that she was the only one not up to speed here.
Then he turned and nodded curtly to the colonel. "Sir."

He stepped back as the colonel came forward, and Jack let out a
silent sigh of relief. He hadn't realized that during all those hours
of study Draycos had actually been reading the manual over his
shoulder. Lucky for him.

Over his shoulder. On top of his shoulder. Whatever.

"My name is Colonel Elkor," the other introduced himself. "Late
yesterday we received word from Sunright that the Shamshir have made a
major blunder. We've been nibbling around the edges of their main
InterWorld transmission station, so they've set up a new one. It's in a
mountainous area marked as November Six on our maps."

He looked them all over, as if expecting them all to know where
November Six was. Jack tried to remember if the Missions section had
included a map of the Sunright area, but he couldn't.

"The convenient part about that is that we happen to have a
forward observation outpost in that region," Elkor went on. "That means
that if we put some specialized computer equipment in there, we'll be
able to tap directly into all their off-planet transmissions."

He jerked his head back at the boxes he'd been standing beside
when the group came in. "Those are the computers," he said. "You are
now the computer operators. Any questions?"

There was a moment of uncertain silence. "Why
aren't
there
any questions?" Elkor demanded. "You all already know everything?"

Jornmy lifted a hesitant hand. "Sir? I don't know anything about
communications work."

"That's better," Elkor rumbled. "Fact is, none of you do. That's
why you're here. Lieutenant Basht will be running you through three
days of training that will include electronic eavesdropping, decoding,
and some preliminary analysis techniques."

"Plus giving you all the access codes you'll need to work our
systems," Basht added. "By the time you're done, each of you will be a
fully qualified Whinyard's Edge systems operator."

"I presume none of you objects to a change in specialties?" Elkor
said, lifting his eyebrows. "If you do, say so now. Plenty of other
recruits marching back and forth out there for us to choose from."

The implications were obvious: stay here and do inside work, or go
back outside and sweat. There was another silence from the group, this
one a lot more positive than the last. "Good," Elkor said briskly. "The
six of you are now designated as Technical Squad Tango Five Zulu. Carry
on, Lieutenant."

He strode from the room. "All right," Basht said, gesturing toward
the computer stations. "Everyone pick a station, and let's get started."

They took a short break for lunch, and an even shorter one for
dinner. Throughout the day the noise outside rose and fell as the rest
of the recruits were drilled and exercised, then taken away for more
target practice, then brought back for more drills and exercise.

The noise inside the room, consisting mostly of Basht's steady
drone of information, seemed to go on forever.

The sky was already darkening when they were finally turned loose.
"I guess that's what they mean by information overload," Jack commented
to Draycos as he trudged alone toward the barracks. "My head is so full
it hurts."

"Perhaps the next two days will be easier," Draycos suggested from
his shoulder. "You seem to have been given most of the necessary
information."

"Yeah, but the next thing will be drilling us in how to use it,"
Jack pointed out. "That's always a lot harder than just memorizing
facts and figures."

He glanced down at the dragon's head, just visible beneath his
collar opening. "Speaking of facts and figures, thanks for bailing me
out when Basht started lobbing pan-fried rocks into our laps. I'm
amazed you even bothered reading all that stuff, let alone memorized
it."

"I am a poet-warrior of the K'da," Draycos reminded him. "The
gathering of military information is part of my profession."

"Yeah, maybe," Jack said suspiciously. "Let me guess: you made up
a little song about the Edge's expeditions. Right?"

There was a short pause, and then the dragon's voice rose in
gentle melody from beneath his shirt. "On Eagles' Rock two hundred
strong, where humans fight a Trin-trang throng," the dragon sang.
"Eight hundred fight at Sunright here: Agri and seven friend Shamshir."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Words fail me."

"Thank you," Draycos said dryly. "There are thirty more verses if
you would care to hear them."

"Some other time."

They walked in silence a few more steps. "I trust you realize,"
Draycos said at last, "that this is a trap."

"Oh, I know," Jack assured him. "Let's hear your take on it."

"They know that someone tried to break into their system last
night," the dragon said. "They suspect it was you, but are not certain.
They therefore offer you the chance to learn their access codes, in the
hope that you will try again tonight."

"Not bad," Jack said. "You're getting better at this sneaky stuff."

"I will take that as a compliment," Draycos said gravely. "Thank
you."

"You're welcome," Jack said. "Only one thing. Unless they also
think I'm dumber than dirt soup, they know I won't try another midnight
stroll. Not with them alerted like this."

"What then
do
they expect?"

"I figure there are two possibilities," Jack said. "One, that I'll
go straight off the chutzpah meter and try to break into the records
while Basht is standing right there teaching me how to do it."

"What is a chutzpah meter?"

"Chutzpah is sheer, blatant nerve," Jack growled. Having to stop
every third sentence to explain something was starting to get really
old. The minute they were back on the
Essenay
, he promised
himself, he was going to sit the dragon in front of a dictionary and
not let him get up until he'd memorized it. "The classic definition is
a kid on trial for murdering both parents, who pleads for mercy on the
grounds that he's an orphan."

"An interesting term," Draycos said thoughtfully. "An equally
interesting concept. What is the other possibility?"

"That I'll wait until we get to Sunright and try to tap into the
computer at the outpost they're sending us to."

"Will an outpost computer have the information on the Djinn-90
fighters that we seek?"

"I don't know," Jack said. "I hope so, since that's mostly what I
am
planning to do."

" 'Mostly'?"

"Right," Jack said, smiling tightly. "You see, they'll figure they
can just put a watchdog program on the computers before I arrive. That
way, the minute I try to break in, they'll have me."

"But you will instead be using your special access system?"

"Actually, we can do even better than that," Jack told him. "The
local Edge group will have to have a mainframe set up somewhere, and it
certainly won't be off at some little observation outpost."

"It will be in their main encampment."

"Right," Jack agreed. "And since the outpost computer has to be
able to talk to that one, it'll need a transmission pathway. And unless
they went to the trouble of stringing a cable out into the middle of
nowhere, that means a radio link." Draycos stirred suddenly on his
skin. "The
Essenay
." "Bingo," Jack said, nodding. "Once I give
Uncle Virge the access codes, he can tap into the signal and pull up
whatever the mainframe has on Djinn-90 fighters. And since I won't have
used the outpost computer to do it, they won't be able to trace it back
to me."

Draycos was silent a moment. "That will require us to travel to
Sunright," he pointed out. "You will be entering a combat zone."

"That
is
the downside to this whole thing," Jack admitted.
"What do you know about observation outposts? Do they get attacked
much?"

"That depends on the situation," Draycos said. "If the outpost is
not considered a danger, it may be left alone as a ranging marker for
artillery attacks."

"And if it
is
considered a danger?"

"It will be destroyed," Draycos said. "As quickly as possible."

Jack grimaced. "I suppose eavesdropping on the other side's
communications would fall into that second category?"

"Correct," Draycos said. "Assuming the other side is aware of it."

"Figures." Jack sighed. "Okay. So the goal is to get there, pull
the records, and disappear before the Shamshir figure it out."

"If they have not done so already," Draycos warned. "Perhaps it
would be better to leave now and try a different group."

For a long moment Jack was sorely tempted. He already had his comm
clip handy, hidden at his waist beneath his shirt. He could just keep
walking until they reached the perimeter, jump the fence, and have
Uncle Virge and the
Essenay
in and out before the Edge even
knew what had happened.

Then it would be out to another mercenary group, one that wasn't
already suspicious of him like the Edge was. He had enough fake IDs
aboard the ship to try a dozen of them if he had to.

But he'd already invested six days here, not to mention the time
they'd spent getting to Carrion in the first place. And time was
definitely something they couldn't afford to waste. "No," he said,
trying to feel like he really meant it. "We've come this far. Let's see
it through."

"You do this for my people," Draycos said quietly. "Once again, I
am in your debt."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't start writing checks just yet if I were
you," Jack warned.

"Pardon?"

Jack closed his eyes. "Skip it."

Four days later, the recruits graduated.

Jack had never been through a graduation ceremony before. Of
course, he'd never been in a school before, either. All of his formal
education had been given to him aboard the
Essenay,
with Uncle
Virgil more or less presiding over the procedure.

He would have laid good odds, though, that this graduation was
vastly different from most.

The ceremony didn't last very long, for one thing. Grisko and the
other drill sergeants got the recruits into formation and ran them
through a few maneuvers in front of a small group of officers in full
dress uniform. Colonel Elkor and Lieutenant Basht were among them, but
Jack didn't recognize any of the others.

After the maneuvers, they all stood at attention while Elkor gave
a speech. A short speech, fortunately, mostly consisting of telling
them how lucky they were to be members of the Whinyard's Edge and how
proud the Whinyard's Edge was to have them. After that, Lieutenant
Basht read off the squad and platoon listings, told them they would be
leaving camp at oh-seven-hundred the next morning, and ordered them to
fall out.

And after that, the sergeants loaded their new mercenaries aboard
transports and flew them to a nearby town for a party.

"A curious ritual," Draycos commented as Jack headed toward the
restroom for his third time. "But is not alcohol a depressant to your
people?"

"Sure is," Jack confirmed, looking around as he pushed his way
past the groups of brand-new Edgemen crowding the tavern. Most of them
were already half drunk, either laughing and staggering or else passed
out on the tables where they sat. A few were huddled in corners,
looking miserable, probably trying not to throw up. "I don't know why
Grisko and the others are even putting up with this, let alone
encouraging it." Draycos remained silent until Jack reached the privacy
and relative quiet of the restroom. "There is no deep mystery to their
actions," the dragon said. "The children are drinking alcohol to
pretend they have become adults. The officers allow it because they
believe the experience will bond the members of each platoon together."

Jack snorted. "Mostly what it'll do is make them feel lousy," he
said. "Not a single one of these kids has any idea what they're doing.
Probably the first time any of them has even tasted the stuff." "Unlike
you?"

Jack shrugged. "Uncle Virgil taught me to drink in case I ever had
to do it for some con scheme," he told the dragon. "And right after he
did, he told me to never even look at the stuff if I didn't absolutely
have to. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm still on my first beer, and
I've only finished half of that. Mostly, I've been drinking water."

"I had noticed," Draycos said. "I see that in some areas Uncle
Virgil did indeed have good judgment."

"What Uncle Virgil had was a well-developed survival instinct,"
Jack said as he dug under his shirt and pulled out his comm clip. "In
our business even a little fog in the brain could be fatal. Fogged
reflexes, too. I never knew when we might have to drop everything and
make a run for the tall grass."

He took a deep breath as he lifted the comm clip. "Uncle Virge
isn't going to like this," he warned.

Uncle Virge didn't. "This is not the deal we made, Jack lad," the
computer growled. "Not the deal at all."

"You don't hear me doing cartwheels of joy either, do you?" Jack
asked. "There just isn't any other way."

"Of course there is," Uncle Virge said, suddenly gone all soothing
and persuasive. "Look, lad, it's over. I know you've done your best.
But the hand's been lost, the jackpot's been taken off the table, and
it's time to face reality. You and your poet-warrior friend have no
choice but to take this to the StarForce."