Dragonback 02 Dragon and Soldier

  Jack could only hope he would keep his annoyance to himself long enough for them to get out of this mess.

  "The only reason the Parprins are still pushing this is because the Edge is backing them," Lieutenant Cue Ball said. "And the only reason they're still on Sunright is that they don't think we can beat them."

  "You told us this afternoon's attack in Mer'seb would persuade them to leave," His Honorest said.

  "I said it would be the first step," Lieutenant Cue Ball corrected. "What we need now is to bloody them in half a dozen places at once."

  He slapped his fingertips at the Edge patch on Jommy's shoulder. "This is our key."

  "I do not like this," His Honorest said flatly. "They are children. It is not right to make war against children."

  "But it's all right for those same children to make war against us?" Lieutenant Cue Ball demanded, starting to sound impatient. "Come on, think. Use those heads of yours for a change."

  "What do you require of us?" the Defense Master asked.

  Lieutenant Cue Ball gave a sound that was almost a sniff. "Nothing at all," he said. "We'll get what we need by ourselves. I just thought you'd like to be brought up to speed on what was happening, that's all."

  He jerked his head toward the door. The Shamshir soldiers nudged the prisoners, and the whole group turned and went outside again.

  "Idiots," one of the soldiers muttered.

  "Of course they're idiots," Lieutenant Cue Ball said as he led the way back toward the human-style buildings by the landing area. "All aliens are. Ignore them and concentrate on the job."

  "What happens if we don't feel like cooperating?" Alison asked.

  Jack winced. It was not a smart thing to say, and he was pretty sure everyone else in the group knew it.

  Lieutenant Cue Ball certainly did. "That sounded like a challenge, puppy," he said quietly. "I like challenges. Don't worry, one of you will talk. Maybe you, huh?"

  "Lieutenant?" a melodious voice called.

  Jack turned to see the second of the uniformed Agri hurrying up behind them. "The Defense Master's compliments. He wishes the human children to be placed in custody under Agrist Protector authority."

  "Return the Defense Master's compliments fourfold," Lieutenant Cue Ball said courteously. "And inform him that the prisoners will be delivered to his custody when I'm finished with them."

  "The Defense Master specifically said—"

  "You will deliver my compliments, and my message," Lieutenant Cue Ball said, turning his back on the alien. "This way, puppies."

  He took them into the larger of the two buildings, into a back room that seemed to have been specifically designed to be a jail cell. There were no windows, the door was equipped with two separate locks, and there were a dozen metal rings embedded halfway into the concrete floor.

  At Lieutenant Cue Ball's instructions, the soldiers produced handcuffs. Ordering the prisoners to sit, they secured their wrists to the rings. "Right," he said briskly when they were finished. "Someone want to save all of us a lot of time and effort and give me the access codes right now?"

  Jack didn't dare look around at the others. He kept his eyes on Lieutenant Cue Ball; and after a moment the man gave a smirk. "Didn't think so," he said. "Fine. We'll do it the hard way.

  He looked around the room, and his gaze fell on Jack. "You—Bright Eyes. Let's go."

  One of the soldiers unfastened the ring end of Jack's handcuffs, leaving the other end attached to his wrist. Hauling him to his feet, he marched him out of the room. With Lieutenant Cue Ball again in the lead, they took him back outside and into the other building.

  The whole procedure seemed to be taking a lot of unnecessary time, Jack thought, especially for people who claimed to be in so much of a hurry. But he'd been through this same routine a few times with various police departments across the Orion Arm. It was all for show: dropping vague threats and then giving the victim time to think and sweat about it.

  And the fact that they'd taken Jack out of the room first meant that he wasn't the primary target of the evening's entertainment. Lieutenant Cue Ball hadn't given him nearly enough time to think and sweat, after all.

  No, they were probably targeting little Rogan, he decided uncomfortably. Either him or one of the girls.

  This second building seemed to be set up more along the lines of the Edge's HQ back on Carrion, with normal offices and hallways and everything. The soldiers took Jack to what looked like a conference room, where he found Tango Five Zulu's fold-top computers laid out neatly around a large oval table. They were plugged in, turned on, and ready to go.

  All they were waiting for was the proper access code.

  "Okay," Lieutenant Cue Ball said, gesturing to the computers. "Like I said, we can do this easy or we can do it hard. You've got one last chance to be smart."

  "Oh, I'm already smart," Jack assured him, watching his face closely. "Problem is, I'm also poor."

  Lieutenant Cue Ball's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means I want to know what's in it for me," Jack said.

  One of the other Shamshir snorted loudly. "You get to stay in one piece," he said.

  "That's important, all right," Jack agreed, shivering. He needed to play this out, so that he knew how much wiggle room he had here. But at the same time, he definitely didn't want to push these men too far. "But it sounds like you guys are in a hurry. I work faster when I'm inspired."

  One of the soldiers took a step forward. "You want inspiration?" he bit out, drawing a long knife from a sheath at his side. "Let me give you some inspiration."

  Lieutenant Cue Ball twitched his hand. Reluctantly, Jack thought, the man stepped back. "Okay, I'll play," the lieutenant said. "What do you want?"

  "My aunt and uncle indentured me to the Whinyard's Edge," Jack said. "Fifty thousand for two years of slave labor."

  "And what, you want us to buy your contract?"

  "Hardly," Jack said. "I want cash and a door out of here."

  A cynical smile tugged at the corners of Lieutenant Cue Ball's mouth. "I see the Edge is still squeezing a quart of loyalty out of each fresh recruit," he said. "Fine. Cash on the drum for value received. What can you give us?"

  "That depends on how much you can pay," Jack countered. "How does a hundred thousand sound?"

  "Like you think we're stupid," Lieutenant Cue Ball said darkly. "Or desperate."

  "I don't know about the first," Jack said thoughtfully, rubbing at his chin. The loose end of his handcuffs bounced against his chest as he did so. "But on the second, it seems to me that you're pushing up against a deadline here. The Defense Master could send his people around at any time to collect us, you know. I don't think the Agri would like it if they found out you were planning to torture a bunch of human children."

  Lieutenant Cue Ball smiled again, a very nasty smile this time. "You think anyone in this room cares a dead frog what the Agri like or don't like?"

  Jack frowned. That wasn't the response he'd been expecting. "This is their world," he pointed out cautiously. "They hired you, not the other way around."

  "I guess maybe you're hard of hearing," Lieutenant Cue Ball said. He wasn't smiling any more. "I'll say it again. I don't care what the Agri like or want, or don't like or don't want. The mine they're sitting on is worth a lot of money. Get the picture?"

  Jack looked over at the soldiers standing by the door, feeling the ground sifting like dry sand out from under his position. "So you're not here to defend the Agri at all," he said slowly. "All you want is the mine."

  "Catches on quick, don't he?" one of the Shamshir said sarcastically.

  "And the only thing that stands in your way," Jack added, "is the Whinyard's Edge."

  "Who want the mine just as badly as we do," Lieutenant Cue Ball agreed.

  He must have seen something in Jack's face, because he smiled again. "Oh, come now. You weren't thinking noble thoughts about them, were you? Did you really think they were here to help the Parp
rins take over the mine, collect their fee, and move on? Who do you think they are, Dragonbacks?"

  Jack nodded, suddenly feeling very tired. Once, he'd thought he and Draycos were on the right side, helping the Whinyard's Edge defend a Parprin mine from aggressors. A few minutes ago, he'd begun to wonder if it was actually the Agri who were the innocent victims here.

  Now, he realized that there was no right side for him to be on. Both armies were out for themselves, fighting solely for a share of the loot. The people who really owned the mine, whichever group it actually was, weren't going to keep their property no matter who won.

  Ever since he'd started this scam, Draycos had been talking about how soldiers were the protectors of the weak.

  He wondered what the noble K'da poet-warrior would have to say about this.

  He didn't have to guess what Uncle Virge would say. I told you so pretty well covered that one.

  "Yes," he said. "I understand."

  He took a deep breath. Draycos had stopped his frustrated movements, he noticed. Perhaps the dragon was offended beyond any reaction at all.

  Or else he was preparing for action.

  "Good," Lieutenant Cue Ball said. "Don't look so shocked. This is how the universe operates. Get used to it." He folded his arms across his chest. "Here's the offer. Twenty-five thousand, in cash, and a ticket off this mudball for everything in those computers. If you can deliver it in one hour."

  Jack sighed. Maybe Uncle Virge was right, after all. Maybe looking out for yourself was all you could expect to do in this life. Trying to do anything else was inviting a whole water buffalo stampede to charge right down on top of you.

  And at the moment, looking out for himself meant getting out of here. Draycos would understand. In fact, Draycos was probably tugging at the leash to get away from this soggy mess himself.

  Anyway, the whole only reason they'd come here in the first place was to track down those Djinn-90s. Twenty-five thousand in Shamshir cash would give them whole new ways to continue that search. That ought to calm the dragon's conscience.

  He hoped.

  "Deal," he said, stepping to the nearest computer and sitting down on the chair in front of it. Briefly, he wondered if Draycos would consider this a betrayal of his soldier's oath. But there was nothing he could do except hope the dragon understood. Taking a deep breath, he keyed in the main access code they'd been taught. Nothing happened.

  CHAPTER 19

  A quiet alarm bell began jingling in the back of Jack's brain. He tried the access code again. Still nothing.

  There were three other codes they'd been taught. He tried each of them in turn, typing slowly and carefully to make sure he wasn't making any mistakes.

  None of the codes did anything at all.

  The soldiers gathered by the door were beginning to mutter among themselves. Feeling sweat gathering on his forehead, Jack moved over one seat to the next computer in line and tried again. He tried everything again. Still nothing worked.

  Lieutenant Cue Ball had started out standing behind Jack, looking over his shoulder. Now, he was crowding so closely against him that Jack could feel him breathing. "What's the matter, Bright Eyes?" he rumbled softly. "Twenty-five thousand suddenly not good enough for you?"

  "I don't know what's wrong," Jack protested. "These are the codes they taught us. They worked fine back on Carrion."

  "Did they, now," Lieutenant Cue Ball said.

  Swallowing hard, Jack attacked the computer one last time. He might as well have saved himself the trouble. "Let rue try one more," he offered, starting to get up from his chair.

  A big hand landed on his shoulder and shoved him back down into his seat. "Save it," Lieutenant Cue Ball snarled. "You've wasted enough of my time already."

  The pressure on Jack's shoulder shifted to a grip under his arm, and he was hauled bodily out of the chair. "Panto, Crick—put him on ice," the lieutenant ordered, giving Jack a rough shove toward the soldiers at the door. "Number Two storeroom. Then go get the Oriental girl. Maybe she'll be more cooperative."

  The Number Two storeroom was the mud hut on the far side of the other human-designed building. It was small, no bigger than the Essenay's cargo hold, with a bare dirt floor. Metal shelves stacked with boxes filled most of the floor space, leaving only a few square feet open in the middle. Panto and Crick sat him down in the middle of the open area and attached his handcuff to one of the lower shelf supports. Then they left, turning off the overhead light and closing the door behind them.

  Jack sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly with his free hand. Like the prison cell they'd started out in, this storeroom had no windows, and it was pitch black. "Well," he said aloud. "Here we are."

  "Yes," Draycos murmured from his right shoulder. "Can you press up beside these boxes?"

  "Yeah, hang on," Jack said, getting up into as high a crouch as he could with his hand chained to the shelf that way. Turning around, he pressed his back against the row of boxes. In their two-dimensional form, K'da had a trick that let them see right through solid objects—though Draycos insisted on saying he was seeing "over" them—provided the walls were thin enough. "How's that?"

  There was a sliding sensation on his back as Draycos moved into position. "Anything useful in there?" he asked.

  The dragon shifted again, paused, shifted again. Examining all the boxes within reach, probably. There was one final movement, and Jack felt the dragon's head slide back around to rest on his right shoulder. "There is nothing useful to us," he reported. "Two of the boxes contain grenades, while the third contains ammunition. There is nothing that will assist us in a quiet escape."

  "Might be helpful in a noisy one, though," Jack pointed out.

  "We do not wish a noisy escape, Jack," Draycos said.

  "Personally, I don't care what flavor escape we get," Jack grumbled. "You got any ideas?"

  "Perhaps," Draycos said. A bit of weight came onto Jack's wrist near the handcuff. "Tell me, what did you do to the computers?"

  Jack shook his head. "Not a thing. The codes just didn't work."

  "How can that be?"

  "Only two possibilities I can think of," Jack said. "Either some idiot got the computers mixed up, or else someone went in and changed all the codes."

  Draycos was silent a moment. "Let us follow the chain of reason," he suggested. "Your squad used the computers on the voyage to this world."

  "Right," Jack said. "And they were fine during the whole trip."

  "They were then transported across the town of Mer'seb to the headquarters building," Draycos went on. "From there they were loaded aboard the Lynx and brought to the outpost at Kilo Seven."

  "So if they were switched, it had to have been done in Mer'seb," Jack concluded. "And if they were reprogrammed . . ."

  He trailed off. "You have a thought?" Draycos prompted.

  "I was just thinking," Jack said slowly. "During the trip to Kilo Seven, they were stacked back in the storage compartment with the rest of the baggage. Anyone could have gone back there and fiddled with them."

  "How difficult would it be to alter the codes?"

  "I don't know," Jack said. "Uncle Virgil always handled any code-switching we had to do. But I suppose if you'd set up a program card in advance, it could be done pretty quickly."

  He tried to reach up to scratch his cheek. The hand came up short as it reached the end of the handcuff chain. "In fact, I'll bet it could even have been done at Kilo Seven while the rest of the squad was getting things set up," he added, examining the restraints with his fingertips. The lock pressed up against the underside of his wrist felt like a standard mechanical handcuff lock. With a proper lockpick, he should be able to open it.

  Trouble was, he didn't have a proper lockpick with him. Still, maybe he could find something on the floor; a sliver of metal or something else he could bend into the proper shape. With his free hand, he began feeling carefully around the packed dirt beneath the shelves.

  "Alison Kayna," Draycos said suddenly. br />
  Jack's fingers paused in their search. "What about her?"

  "She was moving around aboard the Lynx," the dragon reminded him. "She came and spoke with you, in fact."

  "Yes, I remember," Jack said, frowning. He'd assumed at the time that she'd just noticed him talking with Sergeant Grisko and decided to be nosy.

  But what if that wasn't all of it? What if she'd been back fiddling with the squad's computers? She would have had a clear view of his chat with Grisko from there. "Do you remember if she was in her seat when I was talking to Grisko?"

  "I was not able to see in that direction," Draycos said. "At all other times I was watching through the window."

  And Jack himself was taking a snooze. The rest of Tango Five Zulu could have thrown a dance party back there for all he knew. "But why would she sabotage the computers?" he asked.

  "Why would anyone do so?" Draycos countered.

  Jack shrugged. "You got me."

  "I do not know either," Draycos said. "However, we suspect that Alison has had previous military training. Her own statement is that she was once with a different group. I do not believe she ever stated which one."

  Jack blinked in the darkness. "Are you suggesting she's a spy for the Shamshir?"

  "I do not suggest anything in particular," Draycos said. "This situation is not like any I am familiar with."

  "Yeah, I don't suppose it is," Jack conceded. "These aren't your kind of soldiers, are they?"

  "No, they are not," Draycos said, and Jack could hear the contempt in his voice. "These are little more than thieves in uniforms."

  Jack grimaced. "In uniforms, and with high-power rifles."

  "The weapons do not matter," Draycos said. "What matters is that they are not true soldiers. I do not believe they will think as warriors do. That gives us an advantage."

  "Right." Offhand, Jack couldn't think of any advantages they had at this particular moment, but he wasn't going to argue the point.

  For a couple of minutes neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the whistling of the wind against the hardened mud swirls on the outside of their hut and an odd sort of scratching noise Jack couldn't identify. "What are the Shontine like?" he asked suddenly.