Dragonback 03 Dragon and Slave (28 page)

Which was fine with Draycos. Personally, he liked having enemies
bunch up this way. It made them easier to find.

And in this case, he even knew which direction they would be
facing.

Curving back along his circle, he approached the first of the
hidden sentry posts, tucked away inside a cluster of tall bushes.
Staying low to the ground, he crept up and delicately pushed one of the
lower branches aside.

The entire center part of the cluster had been cut away, leaving
room for a cozy spy nest. Two Brummgas were inside, sitting in front of
a set of Argus monitors like the ones Jack had used during his own
sentry duty with the Whinyard's Edge. The aliens were armed with both
the standard slapsticks and long-range laser rifles.

Cutting his way through the bushes would have been both slow and
noisy. Easing himself back, Draycos crouched down and gave one last
look around. Then, with a quick calculation of distance and angle, he
jumped upward.

The leap was right on point. His rear claws cleared the tops of
the bushes by a fraction of an inch, and he dropped squarely on top of
the two Brummgas. A quick double head slam later, and this post had
been neutralized.

He gave the monitors a quick check. No sign of Jack and his party
yet.

For a moment he debated taking the sentries' laser rifles and
hiding them where the escaping slaves could get hold of them. But even
with his brief military training Jack wasn't a very good shot. The
other slaves were likely to be even worse. It would be safer for
everyone if Draycos did all the path-clearing work himself.

The next obstacle in line was ahead and about fifty yards to the
left, two guards crouched behind the rim of a stone fish pond. Leaping
back out of the bushes, he headed in that direction.

He had finished off that group and three others and was heading
for the final two sentry posts when the sky to the northwest abruptly
lit up like the inside of a strobe flash.

He froze in place, sinking deeper into the grass. There was a
faint glow in that direction now, reddish light flickering against the
low clouds.

Right on schedule, the glider had gone to its death. The only
question now was whether it would succeed in the purpose they had set
for it. Keeping low, he continued on toward his next target.

The Brummgan response was faster than he had expected. He had just
reached the concealed sentry post when he heard the distinctive sound
of lifters from behind him. He ducked under the edge of the bushes just
as a group of six Clax-7 patrol planes shot past, heading for the wall.

The Clax-7s had reached their goal by the time Draycos finished
with this latest group. One of the aircraft was visible just inside the
wall, hovering guard above the burning glider. The others were out of
sight, probably on the ground with their crews examining the wreckage
for bodies.

There was one sentry post left, this one disguised as a large
wooden equipment box at the back corner of the sports field grandstand
beside the western flagpole. Draycos was running silently toward on it
when the sky again lit up with the flash of laser fire.

His claws dug into the ground as he twisted around, fully
expecting to see the hovering Clax-7 firing at Fleck or, worse, at Jack
and the rest of the escaping slaves. To his surprise, though, it was
the hovering airfighter itself that had been hit, trailing fiery smoke
as it spun to the ground out of sight.

And taking its place in the sky, only hovering just
outside
the wall instead of inside it, was the
Essenay
.

Draycos turned away, mentally shaking his head. Whatever he might
think about Uncle Virge's ethics, the computerized personality
definitely had a talent for making grand entrances.

He reached the equipment box without incident. Slicing through the
locking bar, he flung the door open. Once again, he'd caught the
Brummgas with their backs to him. Once again, they never knew what hit
them.

The
Essenay
was still firing as Draycos pushed the door
closed behind him. Firing downward, he noticed, over the wall into the
estate.

Was he shooting at the other Clax-7s? But the laser blasts seemed
to be low-power ones, too weak for cutting through air-fighter armor.
Was he shooting at the Brummgan searchers, then? But there was far too
much firing for that.

Curiosity got the better of him. Climbing up the back of the
grandstand, he jumped to the flagpole. It was made of metal, but the
material was soft enough for his claws to handle. Digging in, he headed
up.

And from the very top, he could see that Uncle Virge wasn't
shooting at either the Clax-7s or their crews. Instead, he was laying
down a line of laser fire between the airfighters and the Brummgas,
trapping them back against their own defensive wall.

"Clever," Draycos murmured, mentally flicking his claws in
admiration. In the same act, Uncle Virge had both created a diversion
and neutralized a sizeable portion of the enemy force.
And
he'd
accomplished both without unnecessary killing.

The escaping slaves were in sight now, a ragged line of people
hurrying across the sports field in the direction of the house and the
mercenary transports that would take them to freedom. Shifting around
on the flagpole, Draycos turned to look that direction.

The transports were gone.

It was quiet, Jack thought as he led the way past the grandstand.
Almost too quiet, especially considering all the noise going on back at
the wall. Between the
Essenay
and the Brummgas' Clax-7s, there
was quite a show going on over there. He just hoped Uncle Virge was
following his instructions and was pinning down the guards without
killing them.

Still, sooner or later, Gazen was bound to pull his head out of
the clouds and wonder what the show was for. At that point, one would
expect him to check that his slaves were tucked away in their beds and
not strolling around Chookoock family property without permission.

On the other hand, maybe the fact that there were no Brummgas
charging at them from the house meant that Gazen thought his hidden
guards were still keeping him safe. The fact that those guards weren't
doing their job meant that Draycos had done his.

More impressive yet, he'd done it in silence. Jack had been
listening hard ever since they'd gotten within sight of the hedge and
hadn't heard so much as a gurgle.

Uncle Virge had never really believed Draycos was as good as he
claimed. Up to now, Jack really hadn't had any way to prove him wrong.

After tonight, he would.

"Where are we going?" Maerlynn puffed from behind him. "We're not
going to the house, are we?"

"No, just around the side," Jack told her. "Remember those
transports I told you about? With luck, we'll be out before anyone in
the house even knows about it."

"Hey!" Noy said, grabbing at Jack's sleeve and pointing toward the
grandstand. "Over there. What's that?"

"Where?" Jack asked, peering into the darkness.

"Over there," Noy said, pointing harder. "I saw two little green
lights."

K'da eyes? "I'll check it out," Jack said briskly. "Maerlynn, keep
them moving. I'll catch up in a minute."

He headed toward the grandstand at a quick jog, slowing to a walk
as he reached the structure. "Draycos?" he whispered.

"Here," the dragon called back. From behind a large wooden box two
glowing green eyes appeared.

"You're lucky we even noticed you back there," Jack commented,
stepping close and sticking out his hand. "Noy must have really good
eyes."

"In actual fact, I was staring at you for over a minute," the
dragon said. Putting a paw on Jack's hand, he slithered up his sleeve.
"If you had not seen me, I would have moved farther along your path and
tried again."

"I was hoping you'd come up with some clever way to reconnect,"
Jack said, starting back toward the group. "What do you think of Uncle
Virge's light show?"

"Most impressive," Draycos said. "Jack, we have a problem. The
military transports are gone."

Jack nearly tripped over his own feet. "
What
?"

"Most of those who came for the auction have left," the dragon
said. "The only vehicle still there is a single civilian craft. I
suspect it belongs to Arthur Neverlin."

Jack hissed between his teeth. If he hadn't stopped to go back and
check on Noy . . .

He shook the thought away. "So Neverlin's still here," he said.
"Makes sense. He's probably in there raining fire and brimstone on
Gazen over my disappearance."

"Very likely," Draycos said. "However, our problem still remains.
From the view I had of his vehicle, I do not believe it will be strong
enough to destroy the gate."

"Even if it was, we'd be left with no way to get out ourselves
afterward," Jack agreed grimly. "Unless we walked, and there are a
whole bunch of Brummgan guard posts along the way."

"And most likely better protected than those I eliminated near the
slave areas," Draycos said. "They would of course be alerted now, as
well."

"So a stroll down the driveway is out," Jack said, slowing down.
They'd better work this through before they rejoined the rest of the
group. Reaching to his left collar, he tapped his comm clip. "Uncle
Virge? How's it going?"

"Just fine, Jack lad, just fine," Uncle Virge's voice came back.
"I've got them pinned down nicely. And with this overhang, they can't
even shoot back."

"How many are there?" Draycos asked.

"Twenty-five," Uncle Virge said. "Mostly Brummgas, though I
spotted three humans in the group."

"And you are certain they are still there?"

Jack felt his lip twitch. "Oh, boy," he muttered.

"What?" Uncle Virge demanded. "What is it?"

"The overhang," Jack told him. "Sure, they can't see you; but you
also can't see
them
. They could be sidling their way along the
wall back to the house right now."

"Or are moving toward the gate to cut off our escape," Draycos
added.

Uncle Virge muttered a very rude word. "I will be—"

"It's too late to worry about it now," Jack cut him off. "Anyway,
you're still keeping them away from the Clax-7s. That's worth a lot."

"The value may be about to drop," Uncle Virge said, his voice
suddenly tight. "I'm picking up a signal from the mansion. Gazen is
ordering two Djinn-90 fighters to lift from Ponocce Spaceport."

Jack squeezed a hand into a fist. "How soon till they get here?"

"Depends on how ready they are to fly," Uncle Virge said. "Ten
minutes, maybe fifteen. Twenty if you feel especially lucky today."

"I don't," Jack said, running some quick estimates through his
mind. If he hurried, and if there was no opposition along the way, five
minutes ought to get him to Neverlin's shuttle. Another five to run his
sewer-rat program on the computer and get it started . . .

"I might be able to blast open the gate from out here," Uncle
Virge suggested doubtfully.

"Don't even try," Jack warned. "They're bound to be ready for
something like that."

"What do you want me to do, then?"

"Might as well keep those Brummgas pinned down as long as you
can," Jack told him. "But the minute those fighters show up, take off."

"Take off where?" Uncle Virge demanded. "Jack, lad—"

"The frame of life is rigid," Draycos spoke up. "The time of life
defined."

There was a short pause. "Understood," Uncle Virge said. "Watch
yourself, lad."

He clicked off. "What was that?" Jack asked Draycos as he turned
off the comm clip from his end. "More of your K'da poetry code?"

"Yes," Draycos said. "It is part of a saga about the siege of
Colthin. In that action, the attackers continued to circle the
fortress, evading the defenders' weapons and gradually running them out
of ammunition."

"Not exactly the situation here," Jack grunted. "But close enough.
I guess."

"The point is that he will remain in the area, and merely evade
the fighters' attacks," Draycos said.

"That's the theory, anyway," Jack said, breaking into a run again.
"Okay, here's the plan. We get back to the group, tell them to follow,
then hoof it full-speed to Neverlin's shuttle."

"And then?"

Jack shook his head. "We'll figure something out."

He caught up with the rest of the escaping slaves, delivered his
instructions to a reluctant and increasingly nervous-looking Maerlynn,
and continued on ahead of them. Two minutes later, he was crouched
beside an incredibly ugly sculpture at the edge of the landing area.

And there was still no response from inside the mansion. It was as
if the Brummgas had completely missed what was happening, or were
huddling deep inside their stone fortress, trembling with fear.

Or were simply waiting patiently for the slaves to walk into their
trap.

"Well, there it is," Jack muttered to Draycos as he studied the
shuttle squatting fifty yards away. It was a fancy one, all right—not
much smaller than the
Essenay
, all steel and molded
high-strength plastic and hand-polished chrome, with quadruple drive
engines and at least that many lifter panels. Apparently, Neverlin was
one of those who believed that the more backup systems, the better.

Or maybe he just liked loading his vehicles with expensive extras.
In the shadows under the shuttle, Jack could see a set of fold-in,
heavy-duty landing skids, the kind that guaranteed landings so soft
that Neverlin wouldn't spill even a drop of whatever drink he was
holding at the time. "Nice-looking parlor," he murmured.

"Pardon?"

"Literary reference," Jack told him. " 'Come into my parlor, said
the spider to the fly.' I don't suppose there's any way for you to tell
if they're waiting inside." He snorted. "Let me rephrase that. Is there
any way for you to tell how
many
of them are waiting inside?"