Dragonback 02 Dragon and Soldier (11 page)

Because if the unknown enemies who had slaughtered his advance
party ever learned that someone had survived, they would hunt him down
like a newborn cub. And when he died, the last chance to warn the
refugee fleet would be gone.

But even as his frustration rose like poison in his throat, Jack
finally freed himself from his stunned paralysis. "What do I do?" he
hissed, breaking into a run toward the edge of the street.

"Find cover," Draycos told him. Sliding along Jack's body, he got
a claw beneath the collar of the boy's shirt and popped open the
sealing seam. Bad enough being trapped here unable to help, without
being mostly blind, too. He ran the claw down far enough to open the
shirt to midchest and peered out.

It was about as bad a place to be caught in an ambush as he could
have asked for. All around them, medium-tall buildings provided high
ground for the attackers, and they were taking full advantage of it. A
cloud of drifting smoke was starting to collect overhead by the
rooftops, and he could see muzzle flashes from several windows. Most of
the attack seemed to be coming from three buildings: the three-story
structure next to the building Jack was heading toward, plus the two
four-story ones across the street from it.

He could also see now that the city was surrounded by forested
hills. More high ground, probably the source of the deeper and more
distant sounds of heavy weapons. The enemy had planned their attack
well.

There was a jarring thud as Jack reached the building and slammed
hard into the wall beside a large decorative planter with a red-blue
bush sprouting out of it. "I don't think I like this," the boy muttered
in a shaky voice as he fumbled his Gompers flash rifle off his shoulder
and dropped into a squat beside the planter. "How in—?"

He broke off as an angry face suddenly filled Draycos's field of
view.

The K'da froze in place. But the Whinyard's Edge mercenary wasn't
interested in dragon tattoos just then. "Gimme that," he barked,
snatching the rifle from Jack's grip. Holding it across his chest, he
took off to the left.

"Oh, that's terrific," Jack muttered, curling into a tight ball
behind the planter. "Now what?"

Draycos raised his head from Jack's skin far enough to press an
eye through the open gap in his shirt, and caught a glimpse of the
mercenary as he disappeared around the corner of the building. The
man's own machine gun, he noted, was still bouncing against his back.
"He wanted a long-range weapon to use against the hillside attackers,"
he decided. "His own weapon is for closer work."

"Right," Jack groused, curling up a little tighter. "Like there
isn't enough to shoot at
here
."

He had a point. Gunfire was pouring down from the three buildings
Draycos had already identified as being held by the enemy. The Edgemen
were returning fire, but they were pinned down and mostly without
cover. Even as he watched, three of them tried to charge the door of
one of the buildings, only to be scattered back by a peppering of small
explosions.

Fortunately, most of the civilians seemed to have vanished. Some
had ducked into walkways and alleys or else had taken refuge inside
buildings not held by the enemy. Those outside the immediate battle
zone were running in all directions, their brightly colored outfits
bouncing like flowers in a stiff wind.

And then, as Draycos looked over the top of the planter, his eyes
caught a horrible sight. Three Parprins, one tall and two very short,
were huddled together in obvious terror against the side of Jack's
building. A mother and her cubs, trapped in the middle of the
firefight. "There," he said urgently. "Civilians."

"What?" Jack asked, not moving a muscle.

"Civilians," Draycos repeated, lifting a claw through the open
shirt and pointing.

Reluctantly, Jack untucked his head far enough to throw a quick
glance over the planter. "Okay, yeah, I see them."

"Stop merely seeing and give them aid," Draycos snapped. "Get them
to cover."

"What?
Look
, Draycos—"

"Do not argue!" Draycos cut him off.

Small objects were starting to rain down from the enemy buildings'
rooftops now, objects that exploded on impact. Popcorn bombs, he
remembered them being called in Jack's mercenary manual, thrown by
something called a popcorn machine. The three Parprins huddled even
tighter together in response, the mother wrapping her arms protectively
around her cubs. "You are a soldier," Draycos said. "The job of a
soldier is to protect those in danger. Now,
protect
them."

"How?" Jack demanded, sounding scared and miserable. "I can't even
protect myself. What do you want me to do?"

Draycos leaned out from Jack's shirt as far as he dared. On the
far side of the planter, between Jack and the Parprins, was a set of
steps leading upward into an alcove. He couldn't be certain at his
angle, but it looked like the alcove led up into a doorway. "That
opening to your right," he told Jack. "Move them in there. It may be a
doorway that will allow you into the building. If it is not, it will at
least provide cover from the popcorn bombs."

Jack shook his head. "I can't," he said. "It's too far."

A shot slammed into the far side of the planter, nearly toppling
it over onto Jack. The boy jerked, then curled even more tightly around
himself. "Listen to me," Draycos said, keeping his voice quiet and
steady. "The enemy is not trying to shoot civilians. If they were,
those three would already be dead. We may assume they will therefore
not deliberately shoot at you if you are merely trying to help them."

Jack shivered. "But if no one's shooting at them, why should I do
anything?"

"Because a random shot may still find them if they stay where they
are," Draycos said. "And because it is your duty."

Beneath him, he felt Jack's muscles tense. "All right," the boy
said, taking a deep breath. He hunched his shoulders, taking another
careful look over the top of the planter.

And then, so suddenly it startled even Draycos, he was on his
feet, running a zigzag path toward the Parprins.

Draycos had just enough time to flatten himself onto Jack's skin
before they were there. "Come on," Jack urged, tugging at the mother's
arm. "Come on. We've got to get inside."

For a second the Parprin female just stared blankly up at him.
Jack tugged at her arm again, pointing toward the stairs and the alcove.

Then, just as suddenly as Jack had made his decision, the mother
made hers. Scrambling upright, she grabbed her cubs' hands and raced
toward the alcove.

Jack stayed right behind them until they reached the steps. Then,
bounding up past them as they climbed, he pushed the door open and
hurried them inside.

The room they found themselves in took up the entire front of the
building. Small round tables were laid out in what seemed to be a
random pattern, with tiny colored disks neatly arranged on them. The
windows were large, facing onto the street and also to both sides. None
of them had curtains or barriers of any sort.

Near the center of the room was a wide staircase leading up to the
second floor, with a set of curved metal railings on both sides. "Make
them sit beside the staircase," Draycos whispered to Jack. "It will
give some protection from fire through the windows."

"I should be out there," Jack muttered as he herded the Parprins
to the side of the stairway. "I should be out helping them."

"You cannot," Draycos told him firmly. "You have no weapon. You
can only stay here and guard the civilians."

"But those are supposed to be my comrades out there," Jack
insisted. "You're the one who's always talking about duty. How can I
just sit here while they're getting shot at?"

"You cannot help them," Draycos repeated, flicking his tongue out
once through the gap in Jack's shirt. The smell of Parprin wasn't one
he had tasted before, and he made a mental note of its texture. "But I
can. And I will."

Jack exhaled in a huff. "Okay," he said. "Be careful." He helped
the Parprins down with their backs against the stairway wall; and as he
did so, he lifted his left hand over the top of the railing.

Draycos was out of the sleeve in an instant, leaping onto the
stairs. With his scales tingling, his battle senses fully alert, he
headed up.

The second floor was much like the first: wide spaces, tables with
merchandise, no cover near the windows. Draycos didn't pause, but
continued up the next stairway to the third floor.

There he found what he was looking for. This floor, instead of
being devoted to merchandise, had been divided by low partitions into
an orderly maze of small office-like areas. Even better, the windows
were partially covered by thick, decorative drapes. Keeping to the
cover of the partitions, he made his way to one of the side windows and
looked cautiously out.

The side of the next building was perhaps ten feet away, an easy
leap for a K'da warrior. He scanned all the windows, but there was no
one in sight. Apparently, the attackers were concentrating on the
street side, where the Edgemen were pinned down.

Still, they hadn't completely neglected their defense of this
side. Between the two buildings a steady trickle of popcorn bombs was
raining down.

It was an interesting defensive method, one which the K'da and
Shontine had never used. The popcorn bombs were propelled outward from
a central launcher somewhere on top of the building. As each bomb
cleared the edge of the roof, it sprouted a small parachute, which
stopped its outward motion and turned it instead to fall straight down.
The parachute then popped off, sending the bomb falling at normal speed
toward the street below.

For a few seconds Draycos watched the bombs, studying their
pattern. With the proper timing, it should be cub's play to get though
it.

The rooftop was a little ways above his position as he looked out
the window, and he couldn't see if there was anyone up there tending
the popcorn machine. Still, the Edge manual had said such devices ran
automatically, so it had probably been left on its own. He would have
to risk it.

He looked down, and felt his jaws crack open in a tight smile.
Whatever else the popcorn bombs were supposed to do, they were also
having an unintended but useful side effect. Just as the gunfire from
the windows was creating a hazy smoke screen around the tops of the
buildings, so too the bombs were creating a smoky mist of their own at
ground level.

Which meant that, when he made his move, neither the attackers nor
the defenders would see a thing.

He pushed open the window and backed up to midway across the room.
There he crouched low, watching the bombs fall past the window. He
could feel the blood pounding through his body, pouring oxygen and
nutrients into his muscles in preparation for the effort ahead. Out of
the edge of his eye he could see the golden color in his scales turn to
black as some of the extra blood flow trickled into them.

The K'da warrior was ready.

Across the room, the pattern of falling bombs reached the proper
point. Digging his claws into the carpet, he charged.

A quick sprint took him back to the window. He jumped up to the
sill with his front paws, got his rear paws planted on the sill behind
them, and leaped up and outward.

There was no time to wonder what would happen if he had made a
mistake in the pattern. Fortunately, he hadn't. His jump took him
sailing cleanly through a gap in the artificial hailstorm and landed
him on top of the low parapet around the edge of the roof.

The popcorn machine had been set up near the center of the roof,
spitting its deadly dispatches toward and over the edges. As Draycos
had expected, there was no one tending it. Staying low beneath the
stream of bombs, he sprinted across the roof.

This particular machine was slightly different from the one that
had been shown in Jack's manual. But it was similar enough. Two quick
slashes through the power and control cables, and the rain of bombs
stopped.

Beside the machine was a trap door leading down into the building.
Prying open the popcorn machine's magazine, he pulled out two of the
small bombs. Then, ready to toss them in if necessary, he pulled the
trap door open a crack.

He flicked his tongue into the gap. There was an alien tang in the
air, almost buried beneath the taste of the explosive powder of the
guns. The taste of Parprin was there, too, but faint and stale, plus
the stronger scent of a human. Neither the human nor alien scents
seemed to be nearby.

He lifted the trap door the rest of the way up. Below was a narrow
stairway leading down to a door that had been propped open. No one was
visible, and the enemy did not seem to have set any alarms or booby
traps. Tucking his two popcorn bombs out of the way beneath his
forearms, he headed down.

The open door below led into the center of a corridor lined with
ten doors. Apartments, he decided, or possibly private offices.
Silently, he prowled down the hallway, listening and tasting at each
door.

At the second and fourth doors to the left, on the side facing the
street, he found the enemy.

He took a moment to lay the two bombs on the hallway floor by the
fourth door, where the door would strike them if it was opened
carelessly. Then, returning to the second door, he pulled it open.

The attacker's setup was again something he'd seen in Jack's
manual. At the window sat a slender, long-barreled weapon on a tripod,
angled sharply downward to fire at the street. A belt of ammunition ran
up to it from a small suitcase on the floor.

The gunner himself was of a species Draycos hadn't met before:
short and stocky, with large ears and clumps of feathers poking out of
a mottled red-and-purple skin. His heavy battle vest had a shoulder
patch showing a long, curved sword, and his scent matched the alien
smell Draycos had tasted by the trap door.