Dragonback 02 Dragon and Soldier (12 page)

He was seated cross-legged in the center of the room, well back
from the window, leaning comfortably against the front corner of a
large desk. With the help of a small video monitor in one hand and a
control stick in the other, he was firing the weapon by remote control.

Foolishly enough, he was sitting with his back to the door.
Perhaps he assumed his large ears would warn him of any intruders.

Draycos didn't give him the chance to correct that error. A single
leap across the room landed him behind the alien. A single slap of his
forepaw bounced the other's head against the desk and sent him
sprawling unconscious onto the floor.

For a moment Draycos crouched beside him, listening to the rhythm
of his breathing. The soldier was alive, but definitely out of the
fight.

One room down. One more room to go, and then he would have done
all he could. He turned back to the door.

And paused as a sudden thought struck him. Perhaps he wasn't quite
finished here yet.

He spent a minute learning how to work the control stick. Then,
manipulating the buttons and wheels delicately with his claws, he
raised the muzzle of the gun to point at the building across the
street. Studying the monitor, he located one of the windows where a
similar gun was firing down into the street.

Smiling to himself, he lined up the crosshairs on the other gun
and fired.

The result was all he could have hoped for. His bullets hammered
into the other weapon, shaking it like a puppet with tangled strings
and toppling it back out of sight. Swinging the gun to the right, he
found the next enemy weapon and again opened fire. This gun was
sturdier, and it took him two bursts to knock it out of action.

He swung the gun toward the next building over, aware that his
time was rapidly running out. If the operators of the two ruined
weapons were quick and smart, they would alert the soldier two rooms
away from him that this weapon had fallen into enemy hands. The soldier
would then come and try to take it back.

The enemy was definitely smart, and even a little quicker than
Draycos had expected. From down the corridor came a pair of sharp
cracks as the two popcorn bombs he'd left behind the other door went
off.

The enemy was coming.

He took another two seconds to ruin one more enemy weapon, then
dropped the control stick and loped back toward the door. Leaping up,
twisting to the side in midair, he landed with a gentle thud against
the wall just above the door. His claws dug into the hard wood and held
on.

Just in time. Beneath him, the door was pulled violently open, and
a burst of gunfire spattered across the empty space.

Seeing no one but his unconscious comrade, the soldier shifted his
aim toward the desk, the only reasonable hiding place in the room. The
bullets slammed into the wood, sending clouds of splinters flying. It
was just as well, Draycos decided as he gazed down, that he hadn't
tried to hide there.

The gunfire stopped, and a human soldier eased cautiously into the
doorway, his gun held ready. Unhooking one paw from the wall, Draycos
leaned over and slapped hard at the side of the man's head.

This one was tougher than his alien comrade had been. The blow
sent him staggering to the side, but he managed to stay on his feet. He
shook his head once, as if to clear it, just in time to catch the slap
of Draycos's tail as it struck him in the same spot where the first
blow had landed. The man toppled to the floor, his gun clattering out
of his grip, and stayed down.

Draycos slipped out of the room and headed back toward the
stairway. The hallway was empty, but he knew it wouldn't be for long.
Already he could hear several pairs of footsteps moving upward from the
floor below. Either more of the attackers were coming to investigate,
or an advance party of Whinyard's Edge defenders was on its way.

Either way, his time had run out. He reached the stairway and
climbed toward the roof, noticing as he did so that all the gunfire
outside seemed to have ceased.

And as he eased his head up through the trap door, he found out
why. In the distance, heading toward them at high speed, were three
small aircraft.

So the Whinyard's Edge had finally called in air support. About
time.

He raced across the roof, hoping Jack was still where he'd left
him. He reached the edge, and in a single move leaped up onto the
parapet and then threw himself into a flat dive toward the window he'd
originally left.

His jump was slightly off, and his paws fumbled a bit as he ducked
in through the window. Regaining his balance, he retraced his steps
through the partitions and back to the wide stairway.

He made his way down to the second floor landing. There he paused,
listening. The three Parprins were talking quietly, and from the
direction of their tense voices he could tell they were still sitting
or standing at the bottom of the stairway.

Unfortunately, Jack was keeping quiet. Had he moved away
somewhere? If so, there might be a problem getting back to him without
the Parprins seeing him.

And if he didn't move quickly, the Parprins would be the least of
his worries. With much of the attack broken, and the aircraft dealing
with the rest, he could see through the windows that the Edgemen were
beginning to move purposefully around in the street. One of their first
tasks, he knew, would be to check the nearby buildings for enemies.

All
the buildings. Including this one.

He focused his attention on the stairway railing. A metal railing;
and metal, he knew, conducted sound quite well. Reaching up, he gave it
three gentle scratches with his claws.

To his relief, there was an immediate answering scratch.

He lifted his head carefully, just far enough to see. Jack had one
hand resting on the railing, the fingers beckoning impatiently.

Slinking down the stairs, Draycos reached the spot where Jack
stood. He touched the boy's hand and slid quickly up his sleeve as he
changed into two-dimensional form. Shifting along Jack's skin, he
worked his way around into his accustomed position.

Just in time. Across the room, the door slammed open. Moving
carefully, Draycos peeked out through Jack's shirt.

Sergeant Grisko stood framed in the doorway, a small machine gun
held high across his chest. Behind him, Draycos could see Alison Kayna
and Jommy Randolph.

"There he is," Jommy said, pointing past Grisko's shoulder. "I
told you."

"Yeah, you sure did." Grisko leveled the full power of his glare
at Jack. "And what the frinking rip," he demanded, "are you doing
here
?"

Quickly, Jack got his hand down off the railing and stiffened to
attention. "I was moving these civilians out of danger, sir," he
explained, giving a short nod toward the Parprins still huddled on the
floor beside him. "They were caught in the fire zone."

"Very commendable," Grisko said tardy. If he was pleased with
Jack's answer, it didn't show on his face. "Anyone give you any actual
orders to that effect? Or did you dream it up on your own?"

"And then decide to hide in here with them?" Jommy muttered.

"Shut up, Randolph," Grisko snapped, his eyes never leaving Jack's
face. "Someone give you orders, Montana?
Anyone
give you
orders, Montana?"

"Not exactly, sir," Jack admitted, feeling a fresh batch of sweat
breaking out on his forehead. This was just great. He'd survived an
enemy attack; and now he was going to catch it from his own side?

And possibly catch it even worse than just being shot at. The
manual had listed some pretty severe penalties for desertion under
fire. "There wasn't anyone nearby to give me any orders," he went on,
trying desperately to think his way out of this.

"The manual lists twelve standing orders for behavior in a
firefight," Grisko ground out. "You remember any of them being to turn
tail and run like a rabbit?"

Jack clamped down on his tongue. "No, sir," he conceded. Beside
him, one of the Parprins whimpered.

And at last, inspiration. "But I
do
remember that an
Edge-man's primary job is service to our employer," he continued more
confidently. "Since our employer on Sunright is a Parprin group, I
assume all local Parprins come under that heading."

"Nice try," Grisko said. "Problem is, the protection of civilians
comes three points
below
support of your comrades on the list."

Beside him, Alison stirred. "I wonder where his gun is," she
murmured.

Grisko frowned, his eyes flicking to Jack's shoulder and then
glancing at the floor and tables around him. "That's a good question.
You got a good answer?"

Jack would have smiled with relief if he'd dared. Of course; the
escape hatch he'd been trying to find. "One of the other Edgemen took
it, sir," he said.

A slight frown creased Grisko's forehead. "Why?"

"I believe he wanted to use it against the snipers up in the
hillside," Jack explained. "All he was carrying was a Heckler-Colt
MP-50. Not really suitable for long-range work."

"So why didn't he give you his H-C?" Grisko demanded.

"I didn't have time to ask him, sir," Jack said. "He just took my
Gompers and ran with it. To be honest," he added with what he hoped was
just the right touch of humility, "I don't think the regulars think
very much of us as combat soldiers."

Grisko's lip twisted. "I can't really say I blame them." He looked
at the Parprins, back at Jack. "All right, get outside," he growled.
"We're forming up. Go get your Gompers back, then get your carcass into
position."

He turned sharply and stalked outside. Jommy gave Jack a dark
look, then strode out behind him. "I guess we don't get to see a
court-martial, after all," Alison remarked. "Too bad. Might have been
interesting."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Jack said, waving a farewell to the
Parprins and heading toward the door. "At least you got to watch me
squirm. Was that enough entertainment for one afternoon?"

She lifted her eyebrows. "Hey, I got you off the hook. What more
do you want?"

"You could have mentioned a little earlier that you saw that
thug-ugly take my gun," Jack pointed out stiffly.

"Yes, I could have said something earlier," Alison agreed. "But
why should I?"

"Maybe because Grisko was getting himself worked up into a real
froth about this?" Jack suggested as he stepped up to her. "By the time
you actually spoke up, there was half a chance he wouldn't have even
cared anymore that I hadn't had a gun. He would have been ready to nail
me to the wall right there. Ever think of that?"

"Sure," she agreed. "And maybe if I
had
said something
right off the top, he'd have thought I was just covering for a
deserter. Then we'd
both
have been for the hot seat. Ever think
of
that
?"

Jack frowned, his annoyance fading a little as he gazed into her
eyes. There was something odd there, simmering beneath the surface like
a churning of molten rock.

Anger, and frustration, and determination. And perhaps more than a
little fear.

A lot like the way he'd been feeling lately himself. For about the
last year, in fact, ever since Uncle Virgil had died.

"I thought we were comrades in arms," he said quietly.

She regarded him coolly. "I don't stick my neck out for you,
Montana," she said, just as quietly. "You or anyone else."

Turning, she walked out the door. "Okay," Jack muttered aloud to
himself. "Good to have that settled."

"An interesting person," Draycos murmured from his shoulder.

"Oh, yeah," Jack said sourly. "Interesting like a rare and
delicate tropical disease. Come on, let's go find the clown who's got
my gun."

It took several minutes for Jack to track down the man who'd taken
his flash rifle. It took several more to actually get the weapon back.
Still eyeing the hillside suspiciously, the soldier was clearly not
interested in giving up his long-range firing capability, and told Jack
so in language that would have made Grisko proud.

But by then the officers were starting to call the troops back
into formation, and Jack's mention of Grisko's name also seemed to
carry a certain amount of weight. Eventually, with one last muttered
curse, the soldier shoved the Gompers back into Jack's hands and
stomped back to rejoin the column. On Draycos's advice, Jack replaced
the half-used clip with a fresh one, then hurried back to his own place
in line. A few minutes later, the whole group resumed their march
through town.

But not with nearly the brash confidence they'd shown earlier.
Now, they marched with their attention turned upward, toward the
windows and rooftops as they passed beneath them. Their weapons were
again slung over their shoulders, but it seemed to Jack that none of
them let his or her hand get too far from the trigger. And, of course,
the combat aircraft floating watchfully overhead were a continual
reminder of what had just happened.

The Whinyard's Edge had gotten its nose bloodied today.

There was a change in the townspeople, too. Not surprisingly, the
crowds that had been lining the street earlier were gone. Those who
found themselves near the marching soldiers seemed intent on hurrying
to be somewhere else.

Earlier, the people had seemed nervous and uncertain. Now, they
were flat-out afraid.

Mentally, Jack shook his head. Whatever result the Edge commanders
had hoped for with this stroll through the city, he was pretty sure
that wasn't it.

They reached the headquarters compound without any further
trouble. A pair of carriers loaded with their equipment rumbled in
behind them, and there was a sort of confused chaos as footlockers and
other gear were sorted out.

Back on Carrion, Jack had gotten the impression that his squad
would be staying in Mer'seb for a few days before moving up to the
November Six observation post. But barely an hour after their arrival,
the order came down for eight of the new squads to assemble immediately
for transport to their field destinations. Tango Five Zulu was one of
them.