Dragonback 03 Dragon and Slave (29 page)

"I am sorry," Draycos said regretfully. "I can smell Brummgan
scent, certainly. But the wind has faded, and I cannot identify any
direction for the odors."

Jack rubbed his chin. "Let's do a numbers game, then. Uncle Virge
said he had twenty-five of Gazen's troops pinned down, at least until
they can sneak their way around to the gate. How many did you take out
clearing the path for us?"

"Fifteen."

"Making forty in all," Jack said. "Fleck's top estimate was that
Gazen had seventy armed thugs. Figure at least six more in those hidden
guard huts between the house and the gate, plus another ten inside the
house to protect the Chookoock family in case we take it into our heads
to charge the place. Any of those figures sound too high?"

"Possibly even a bit low," the dragon said slowly. "With an attack
coming from a ship as well-armed as the
Essenay
, and with the
gate the only clear way inside, I would post at least ten guards along
that approach."

"Especially since they have no way of knowing if we have other
backup waiting outside," Jack said, nodding.

"Correct," Draycos said. "In addition, with a slave of your skills
and reputation on the loose, I would leave at least fifteen to protect
the Chookoock family."

"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.

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," Neverlin 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.