Dragon and Herdsman

CHAPTER 7

The comm clip went silent. Jack found himself staring down at nothing, his throat tight, his stomach twisting into a knot of fear and anger.

It couldn't be. How could the mercenaries possibly have tracked the Essenay across the Orion Arm to this fifth-rate planet? How could they possibly have known where to find him and Alison?

Alison.

Alison, who'd been so conveniently on the scene to spring him from their trap. Alison, who'd noted and even commented on the Essenay's InterWorld transmitter.

Alison, who'd talked him into coming to this nice little out-of-the-way system in the first place. A place where he and Draycos and the Essenay could quietly disappear.

Jack turned to look at her, expecting to see her Corvine pistol leveled at his stomach, a triumphant smile on her face.

But the gun wasn't pointed at him. And her face was as taut and horrified as he'd ever seen it. "Alison?" he asked carefully.

She twitched; and as if a mask had suddenly dropped into place, the fear vanished from her expression. "I think we've got trouble," she said.

"No kidding," Jack growled, scrambling to his feet. Dodging between and around the strolling Erassvas, he sprinted back down the path to the edge of the forest.

It was as bad as he'd expected. In the distance over the mountains he could see the Essenay swooping and dodging through groups of wispy clouds. The two Djinn-90s were right on its tail, their lasers flashing as they tried to bring it down. "Uncle Virge?" he called. "How are you doing?"

"I'm open to suggestions," the computer's voice came back.

"Try a mirm preah maneuver," Draycos said, his head rising from Jack's skin and pressing against his shirt as the dragon gazed out at the distant battle. "Break to your right. . . now."

The Essenay twisted sideways, dipping lower toward the mountains below. The two pursuit fighters shifted course to stay on it, and then suddenly the Essenay's nose dropped and the ship dived straight down.

Jack caught his breath. But even as the Djinn-90s dived after him, Uncle Virge brought the nose sharply up again and spun the ship nearly a hundred eighty degrees around to point straight back at his attackers.

They reacted instantly, wrenching away to either side to avoid ramming at full speed into the larger ship. But for one of them it was too late. A double burst from the Essenay's meteor-defense lasers caught it squarely in the nose as it maneuvered, shattering it into a ball of flame. The other fighter was luckier, managing to dodge away from the short-range missile Uncle Virge fired at it. The Essenay's lasers flashed at it as it fled, but before they could get a good target-lock the Djinn-90 vanished out of sight behind one of the mountain peaks.

"One down," Uncle Virge said as the Essenay's path curved around toward the forest. "Let's see if I can get back there and pick you up before he comes around the other side."

"We're ready," Jack said. There was the rustling of bushes behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Alison jog into view. "Make it fast."

But Uncle Virge didn't make it fast. In fact, he didn't make it at all.

It happened all at once, with perfect timing and coordination. From high in the sky the Kapstan transport Uncle Virge had mentioned earlier suddenly dropped into view through the clouds, the sun glinting off its stubby wings, its belly weapons raining laser and particle-beam fire down on the Essenay At the same time, the remaining Djinn-90 reappeared from behind the mountains, zigzagging through the peaks as it charged toward the Essenay's right flank.

Two armed ships. . . and the Essenay was caught between them.

Jack clenched his hands into fists, vaguely aware of Draycos's claws tightening reflexively against his skin. Uncle Virge was trapped like a rat in a cage. If he didn't surrender, and fast, the two attackers would cut the ship in half.

"The Saga of Fristra," Draycos said suddenly, his head melting back onto Jack's skin. "Min kly, then the Saga of Fristra."

Jack blinked. "What—?"

"Jack?" Alison demanded as she came up beside him. She peered up at the mountains, shading her eyes with her hand. "Uh-oh."

"Min kly, then Fristra," Uncle Virge acknowledged, his voice tight. "See you, Jack lad."

"What's a min kly?" Alison asked, throwing a frown at Jack's comm clip.

Jack was still trying to think up a good answer to that when the Essenay twisted suddenly like a hooked fish, spun to the side, and raked the incoming Djinn-90 with a full salvo from its lasers. Half-hidden by the brilliant flashes, a pair of missiles arrowed out in a one-two punch.

The first missile exploded against the side of the mountain as the fighter passed, blanketing the attacker in a flow of shattered ice and rock. The second arced straight into the middle of the avalanche. There was another ball of flame, and now only the Kapstan was left.

But the maneuver had cost the Essenay dearly. Its sideways skid had robbed it of most of its forward momentum, and Jack could see Uncle Virge fighting for stability in the churning mountain winds. Even as the transport dropped lower, its attack intensifying, the Essenay rolled over and plummeted toward the cliffs below. It disappeared behind a peak—

And there was one final violent explosion. The Kapstan veered sharply away, bouncing as it was buffeted by the blast.

Jack stared at the fading light and smoke, his pulse pounding in his ears. "Uncle Virge?" he whispered toward his comm clip. "Uncle Virge?"

There was no answer. In the distance, the Kapstan's pilot had gotten the transport back under control and returned to the area above the final explosion's fading glow. Slowly, it circled the area, its weapons silent.

Which could only mean that Colonel Frost no longer had anything to shoot at.

Dimly, Jack felt his muscles starring to shake, his vision blurring with tears. Uncle Virge, the Essenay, everything he'd known since he was three years old—it couldn't all be gone. Not here. Not now.

He jerked violently as a hand suddenly touched his shoulder. He turned, trying to see through the tears. "Come on," Alison said quietly.

"Where?" Jack asked, his voice quavering. It was a sign of weakness Uncle Virgil had always hated, but Jack no longer cared.

"Into the forest," Alison said. "We have to get under cover."

"Why?"

"Because they'll be coming here next," she said patiently. Her face was tight, and he could see an edge of fear lurking at the corners of her eyes. But her voice was calm and determined. "They'll have tracked the transmission from your comm clip."

"So what?" Jack demanded bitterly.

"So I don't know about you, but I'm not ready to give up just yet," she countered, some of her control starting to crack.

Jack shook his head. "It's finished, Alison," he said quietly. More finished than she would ever know, in fact. Jack, Draycos, the K'da and Shontine—they were all dead.

"Snap out of it," Alison ordered tardy, slapping him none too lightly across the back of his head. "Okay your ship's gone. I'm sorry. But it's a long way from being finished. My friends—remember? My friends are coming to get me."

Jack swiped at his eyes with his sleeve, a cautious flicker of hope stirring inside him. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "I'm all right."

"That's better," Alison said. "Come on."

She got a grip on his arm and started pulling him back toward the path. "Where are we going?" Jack asked.

"I've got camping gear in my travel bags, enough for a couple of weeks if we're careful," she said. "We break it out, pack it for travel, and find someplace to hole up."

"What if they find us?"

"Then we do what we can," she said. "It's still better than being caught out here in the open."

Jack took another deep breath. She was right, of course. But the shock of losing the Essenay still pressed like a strangle cord across his mind. It was hard to think about anything else, even survival.

But Draycos wouldn't be nearly so handicapped. If Jack could just talk with him a moment . . .

They reached the first turn in the path. "Go ahead and start packing," Jack told Alison, waving her ahead as he slowed down. "I need to do something first."

She frowned. "Like what?"

"It'll just take a second," he promised. "Go on; get going."

She hesitated, then nodded. "All right, but hurry. And stay under the trees."

She turned and disappeared around the turn. "Probably thinks I need to cry about the Essenay," he muttered, looking down at Draycos.

"Jack—"

"No, it's all right," Jack cut him off. "The Essenay was just a thing. In the great grand scheme, things aren't important." He swiped at his eyes again. "And Uncle Virge was just a computer program. I did my crying for the real Uncle Virgil a year ago."

"I understand," Draycos said. "However—"

"Jack?" Alison's voice wafted over the bushes. "Come on, move it."

"Coming," Jack called back. "What I need to know right now," he said, lowering his voice again, "is whether or not it's safe for us to stay with Alison."

"Yes," Draycos said without hesitation. "I do not know why, but I believe we can trust her. At least, for the moment."

Which wasn't to say she wasn't working some private agenda of her own, Jack reminded himself. Somewhere along the line, that agenda could easily branch off from his.

Still, there had been that look on her face when Colonel Frost came on the comm. She apparently didn't want to see him any more than Jack did. "Close enough," he told the dragon, starting forward again. "Let's do it."

"Jack—"

"Later," Jack said as he reached the clearing and again threaded his way through the lethargic Erassvas.

Alison was busily stuffing the contents of the two travel bags into a pair of lightweight backpacks when he reached her. "You get your booby trap set?" she asked.

"Booby crap?"

"Isn't that what you stayed behind for?" she asked, frowning up at him briefly before returning to her sorting. "To slow them down a little?"

"I was going to," Jack lied. Clearly, his brain was still only working at half speed. "But I figured the Erassvas might get caught before Frost's thugs got here."

"Probably right," she conceded. "Maybe we can do something further on. Give me a hand."

"Sure." Jack dropped to his knees and started sorting a pack of ration ban into the two bags.

And as he did so, he felt a breath of hot air on the back of his neck. Twisting his head around, he found himself nose to muzzle with the gray-scaled K'da he'd noticed earlier.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alison snatch her gun from its holster. "Easy," he said quickly. For a long moment the silvery eyes stared into his, as if the K'da was trying to work out who exactly this new creature was and what it was doing in its nice quiet forest. Then, the eyes blinked slowly, and the head turned away, and the K'da wandered off.

Alison let her breath out in a huff. "I sure hope you're right about them being well fed," she said, setting the gun down on the grass beside her.

Jack gazed at the gray dragon as it sniffed along the edge of a fallen tree, an uncomfortable feeling stirring inside him. If Frost was one of Neverlin's partners, he would know all about K'da. Including the fact that Jack had one with him.

Which meant that when Frost and his men saw the Erassvas and their little group of Phookas . . .

"You think we can get this done today?" Alison's voice cut into Jack's musings.

"Sorry." Shaking the thought away, he got back to his packing.

But the thought refused to leave. Frost, Neverlin, the K'da . . . and by the time Jack and Alison had the backpacks sealed, he knew what he had to do.

"Okay," Alison said, hoisting her pack onto her shoulders and bouncing it once to settle it into place. "I thought we'd head west to the foothills we saw from orbit. They looked pretty rocky—there should be some caves in there where we can hole up."

"Sounds good," Jack said, bracing himself. Alison was not going to like this at all. "But we're taking the Phookas with us."

To his mild surprise, she didn't explode in anger or disbelief. She just stood there, one hand gripping her backpack strap, staring at him. "And how exactly do you propose we do that?"

It was, Jack decided, a very good question. Unfortunately, he hadn't yet come up with an answer for it. "I'll go talk to Hren," he said, taking a couple of steps back and turning around. He spotted the big Erassva at the far side of the clearing and headed in that direction.

"Jack, what are you doing?" Draycos asked from his shoulder.

"You want to leave your fellow K'da to the mercenaries?" Jack asked.

"Perhaps they would be better off dead," Draycos muttered, his voice dark.

Jack looked down at him. "You really believe that?"

Draycos sighed, a touch of warm dragon breath across Jack's chest. "No, of course not," he said reluctantly. "What is your plan?"

"Still working on it," Jack said between clenched teeth. Fifty K'da wandering around, plus however many were currently riding their Erassva hosts. Call it sixty or seventy. If he wanted all the K'da, that meant sixty or seventy Erassva hosts as well, all of them bulling their way through the forest. It would leave a trail Frost's men could follow in their sleep.

Unless . . . "Draycos, how long does a K'da have to stay on his host?" he asked.

"He can stay on as long as he wishes," Draycos said, sounding puzzled.

"I know he can," Jack said. "But how long does he have to? An hour? Two hours?"

"No more than an hour to fully recover," Draycos said, suddenly thoughtful. "Perhaps less."

"So that means each Erassva should be able to carry seven K'da," Jack said, trying to work it out in his still-sluggish mind. "One hour on, six hours off."

"Yes, that may work," Draycos said slowly. "Though it would be safer to include a margin of error."

"Okay, we'll put six with each Erassva then," Jack agreed. "Any idea how many there are?"

"Sixty," Draycos said. "I counted them."

"So we'll need ten Erassvas," Jack concluded. "Unless you think I should take a few of them myself."

"We would still need ten Erassvas," Draycos said. "Besides, I must be free to act at any time."

"Point," Jack agreed with a shiver. Even with a poet-warrior of the K'da on their side, the odds here weren't looking very good.

"Of course, that also assumes we can make the Phookas understand all this," Draycos went on. "That may prove difficult."

"Maybe Hren can help," Jack suggested. "They must have some way of communicating with them."

"Perhaps," Draycos muttered. "Assuming Hren himself understands."