Dragon and Liberator

CHAPTER 8

Bentre was exactly the way Jack had expected: quiet and sparsely settled. Best of all, it was inhabited by the mostly easygoing Compfrins, who usually didn't ask awkward questions.

It was the perfect place, in other words, for someone planning genocide to pick up a few attack ships.

"Ah, yes—the spacecraft for Sidj Kimtra Varn," the manager of the Progline Skyport said, peering at his computer display. "Twelve KK-29s, surplused from the Grimnau Customs Office." He peered intently at Jack's face. "You are not Sidj Warn, are you?"

"No, I just work for him," Jack said. Human faces were hard for Compfrins to distinguish between, but he wasn't quite ready to try to pass himself off as either Neverlin or Frost.

"Allow me then to greet you and welcome you to Bentre," the manager said. He pulled out a handful of papers and a stylus and pushed them across his counter toward Jack. "Here are the release-and-possession forms that must be completed. I trust you brought a pilot for each vessel? These craft cannot be slaved together as some ships can."

"Yes, I know," Jack said, gently pushing the papers back toward him. "Actually, Sidj Varn just asked me to stop by and make sure the ships were here and ready to go. Another group will be coming by later to actually take possession."

"You will save them valuable time if you complete the forms now," the Compfrin suggested, pushing the forms back again.

Compfrins weren't nosy, Jack reflected, but they could definitely be pushy. "The other group will do that," Jack said firmly, trying to imagine Neverlin's reaction to the news that someone had stopped by his secret-weapons stash and done his paperwork for him. "And I really must go."

He left the office before the manager could protest further. So we know now that Frost's men haven't already retrieved them, Draycos's thought whispered into Jack's mind.

Getting in ahead of the opposition is always a good start, Jack agreed, looking around. The spaceport had a dozen somewhat dilapidated hangars of various sizes scattered across the grounds, including the one where he'd parked the Essenay. Filling the space between the hangars were a variety of other vehicles. Most of them were light personal aircraft, anchored to the ground by thin wires to protect them against gusts of wind.

Should be that one over there, Jack said, nodding toward the westernmost of the hangars as he got into one of the rental carts lined up outside the office. He dropped some coins into the slot and got a grip on the steering lever. Let's go see what kind of bargain Neverlin got.

They had passed the last line of tethered aircraft between them and the hangar when the comm clip on Jack's collar suddenly came to life. "Jack lad, I'm picking up a shuttle with Brummgan markings, coming in from the west," Uncle Virge said tightly. "Could be Frost's pilots."

Jack shot a look over his shoulder at the sky. "How close?"

"Close enough," Uncle Virge said grimly. "You need to get under cover, right now."

Jack looked around. Problem was, there was no cover, at least nothing he could get to quickly.

But there was something he could use as camouflage. "Right," he said, shifting direction toward a group of airplanes about fifty yards from the east side of Neverlin's hangar. "Any idea how many Brummgas are aboard the shuttle?"

"My infrareds can't pick out individual bodies through that kind of hull," Uncle Virge said. "But if we assume twelve pilots plus the shuttle's own crew, the overall IR sum would say they're all human, not Brummgan."

Jack felt his throat tighten. He'd assumed Frost's buddies would be busy stealing Malison Ring ships, and that Neverlin would assign this particular duty to his tame Brummgas. None of that bunch was particularly clever, and most of them had probably never actually seen Jack.

But many of Frost's mercenaries had. Way too many of them.

So much for his chances of running some sort of scam on them.

What's our plan? Draycos asked.

Jack looked over his shoulder again. The fiery glow of the incoming shuttle's drive could now be seen against the cloud-speckled blue of the sky. There's no time to get to real cover, he told the K'da. So we're going to go with the classic technique of hiding in plain sight.

The shuttle was on its final approach as Jack pulled up to the group of aircraft and stopped. "Uncle Virge, I've got a Lightsparrow-66 here," he said, glancing at the nearest airplane's markings as he got out. "I need the location of any outside equipment bays."

"Right. Give me a minute."

Making sure to keep his face away from the incoming shuttle, Jack stepped around to the back of his cart and opened the storage compartment. It was mostly empty, but in one corner he spotted a forgotten screwdriver and a socket wrench. "Uncle Virge?" he prompted, scooping them up.

"Both wing engine pods have access ports on their inboard sides," Uncle Virge reported. "Three bolts along the top, then swing down the panel."

Jack looked at the nearest engine pod, spotted the three bolts. "Got it," he said, turning to it and setting to work with his borrowed screwdriver. He was facing the hangar now, which would be a little risky when Frost's men started piling out. On the other hand, once Jack got the panel open, it should block his face from anyone who looked in this direction.

Sure enough, as the last bolt came loose the panel swung down just low enough to hide everything above his chin. Draycos? he called silently. Can you see anything?

The K'da moved across his skin, sliding down to where he could look through the neck of Jack's shirt. They're landing near the hangar, he reported. The shuttle's stern is turned toward the door.

With its weapons turned outward, ready to shoot at possible trouble. Frost's men weren't taking any chances. Are they all staying at that end of the building?

No—two of them are heading this way.

Jack winced, moving his elbows briskly and visibly as he pretended to work on the plane's engine. If the mercenaries were suspicious enough to come over here and check him out . . .

Wait, Draycos said, and Jack could sense the relief in his voice. They're turning to go around the side of the building. They're just checking the hangar's exterior.

Jack breathed a quiet sigh of relief. At least he and Draycos weren't going to have to fight.

But that brought up a whole different problem. If the mercenaries were suspicious enough to check out even the solid parts of the hangar's exterior, they weren't likely to leave either of the two doors unguarded. Have they finished their sweep yet?

Almost, Draycos answered. They're moving around the corner—one last look on this side . . . there. They're gone.

Did they seem interested in me?

One of them looked in this direction, but there was no indication he was suspicious, Draycos answered. All is clear. We can get moving.

Moving to where? Jack countered. They're bound to be watching the doors at both ends.

Across the distance came a soft, low rumble. "Uncle Virge?" Jack asked. "Is that what I think it is?"

"It's multiple engine prep," Uncle Virge confirmed. "Looks like they're in something of a hurry."

"The manager's going to be furious if they don't fill out his paperwork," Jack said, trying hard to come up with something. So much for his original idea of hitching a ride. That left only Alison's plan of wrecking the ships and keeping Neverlin from getting them. If Jack got the Essenay moving right away—and if they were extraordinarily lucky—they might be able to take out all twelve ships before the mercenaries got their own weapons on line.

At which point, there would be only one other chance for him and Draycos to find Neverlin's attack force. They would have to get to Driftline before Frost finished stealing those Malison Ring ships, and figure out how to hitch a ride from there.

And if they failed there as well, Alison and Taneem would be on their own. Completely and utterly on their own.

Go to the side wall directly across from us, Draycos instructed, an edge of determination in his tone. Perhaps he was thinking about Alison and Taneem, too. They won't be watching for an intrusion there.

Of course they won't, Jack said, suddenly understanding what Draycos had in mind. Ducking under the engine pod panel, confirming for himself that the mercenaries were out of sight, he headed toward the hangar at a brisk jog.

He reached the wall and pressed his back against it. How's it look? he asked.

Very possible, Draycos said. Move to your left about ten feet. There's a wide tool cabinet near the wall which I can enter behind.

I hope you're keeping the odds in mind, Jack warned as he moved along the wall and settled into his new position. There are at least fourteen of them, and only one of you.

Don't worry, Draycos assured him. I'm not planning to fight even one of them, let alone all fourteen.

Jack frowned. Then what's the plan?

To arrange transport, of course, Draycos said. Return to the airplane you were pretending to fix, and have Uncle Virge locate and monitor their transmission frequencies. I'll join you soon.

Jack felt a surge, and Draycos was gone.

Draycos pushed against Jack's skin with his rear paws, and with a slightly dizzying rush he fell over the wall into the hangar.

He dropped into a low crouch behind the tool cabinet, flicking his tongue a few times to taste the air. There were indeed only humans in this group, he concluded. Twelve of them, he estimated, which implied the entire transport crew was still in their shuttle. Easing to the edge of the cabinet, he cautiously looked around it.

The twelve KK-29 patrol ships were set out in neat rows, four rows of three each, all of them facing south toward the hangar's main doors. Two of the mercenaries were walking slowly through the rear two rows, doing a visual check of drive nozzles and missile tubes. Occasionally one of them leaned over to peer at the underside between the landing skids.

Four more men, including the two who'd walked along Jack's side of the hangar, were standing at the open north-end door, facing outward with weapons at the ready. The shuttle itself, Draycos noted, with its own weapons turned outward, would do an adequate job of guarding the southern end.

Under most circumstances, the arrangement would have created a proper and logical defensive perimeter. In this case, unfortunately for them, they were all facing the wrong way.

All six ships in the first two rows were giving off the low rumble of spacecraft being readied to fly. Waiting until the two roving men were out of sight, Draycos crossed the empty space to the nearest of the third-row patrol ships. With a final look around to make sure he hadn't been spotted, he dropped to his belly and crawled beneath it.

The Flying Turtle 505 transports Jack had flown in during his brief time with the Whinyard's Edge mercenaries had been designed to carry troops over battlefields. Those ships had thus been equipped with heavy armor plating on their undersides.

The KK-29s, in contrast, were designed to chase smugglers and marauders. Since they were expected to face their enemies during battle, their armor was concentrated instead in the nose sections.

And since weight considerations meant a fast-attack ship couldn't be invulnerable everywhere, Draycos found himself lying beneath a full collection of conduits, tubes, access ports, and vents. Protecting the whole thing was a single three-inch armor plate bolted over the maze, set off with long spacers to allow access to the equipment.

Perfect

He didn't know what sort of fluids, hazardous or otherwise, the various conduits might be carrying. Fortunately, he didn't need to try his luck with any of them. Extending a single claw, he slipped it between a pair of tubes and pressed it against the inner hull of the ship itself. Quickly but quietly, he started cutting through it.

The metal was thicker than he'd expected, and he had to widen the cut twice before he finally felt his claw pierce the hull into the ship's crew compartment. He enlarged the hole a bit more, then rolled back onto his stomach and made his way to the front of the landing skids.

The first row of ships had already disappeared, and the second row had risen on their lifters and were preparing to follow. The guards at the rear door, he noted, had also disappeared, presumably preparing their own ships for lift.

The pilots of the three hovering ships started forward, their low-power drives kicking up a swirling cloud of dust. Taking advantage of the cover, Draycos ducked out from between the landing skids and sprinted back to the protection of his tool cabinet.

There he watched as the rest of the patrol ships flew away into the afternoon sky. The shuttle followed, and Draycos headed for the main hangar door.

He was nearly there when Jack appeared in the opening. "You all right?" the boy asked anxiously.

"I'm fine," Draycos assured him. "Is Uncle Virge monitoring their conversation?"

"Yes, he's on it," Jack said, holding out a hand. Draycos leaped toward him, catching the hand in midair and sliding up the boy's sleeve. Everything's encrypted, but it's a simple cross-stitch and he says he can break it, Jack added, switching back to telepathic communication now that Draycos was in contact with his skin. What exactly did you do in there?

You'll see in a few minutes, Draycos said. We need to return to the ship right away.

They reached the Essenay to find that Uncle Virge had started their own engine prep. "Where are they?" Jack asked as he headed for the cockpit.

"About a hundred miles up," Uncle Virge said tartly. "If we're going to catch them, we need to get going right now. In fact, we might already be too late."

Out of the corner of his eye Draycos saw Jack look down at the opening in his shirt collar. "We're okay," the boy said. "What are they talking about?"

"Nothing much," Uncle Virge said, the urgency in his tone starting to blend into the annoyance Draycos knew so well. "They're doing their final running checks and systems tweaking. If our noble poet-warrior has anything to offer in the way of—hold it."

There was a click from the board as Jack dropped into the pilot's seat. "—bit of trouble," a new voice came from the cockpit speaker. "Looks like I've got a slow air leak."

"You told me the pre-lift diagnostic came back negative," a second voice said accusingly.

"It did," the first voice retorted. "The leak's not in the air system. Must be in the cabin itself."

The second voice swore. "Blast it all, Chiggers."

"Lighten up, Sarge," Chiggers scolded. "Like I said, it's real slow. I can probably patch it with sealant and the torch from the onboard tool kit."

"If you can find it," Sarge warned.

"He can probably do that just with his breath," a third voice put in.

"Stow it, Driscol," Sarge snapped. "You think Colonel Frost is going to make jokes about us having to put down again?"

"Who said anything about us having to put down?" Chiggers asked. "There's an outpost town right on my glide path. You go ahead and I'll drop down and get this fixed. Shouldn't be more than an hour or two behind you." He snorted. "Fact is, the way Driscol flies, I might even beat you there."

"I don't like this," Sarge growled.

"Would you rather go back to Frost and tell him we left one of the 29s behind because you were afraid I might get lost?"

Sarge hissed an irritated sigh. "All right, fine. Just make it quick. Driscol, you stay with him."

"I don't need him," Chiggers put in before Driscol could respond. "Besides, he might run into my breath and hurt himself."

"Chiggers—"

"See you, Sarge," Chiggers said. "When I get to Point Two I'll tell Frost you're on your way."

There was a soft click as Chiggers shut off his transmission, and another as Uncle Virge closed down the speaker. "One of the ships is breaking formation," he reported. "He's heading back down."

Draycos lifted his head from Jack's shoulder for a better look at the display. The patrol ship was definitely curving back toward the surface. More important, none of the others seemed to be following. "Can you locate his landing point?" Draycos asked.

"He said there was a town on his flight path, and there are only two settlements of any real size along that vector," Uncle Virge said.

"Make for the first one," Jack told him. He looked down at Draycos again. "We are planning to meet him, aren't we?"

"Absolutely," Draycos confirmed, feeling a sense of relief. So far, this was working exactly the way he'd planned.

"And once we do that?" Uncle Virge prompted.

"He should have this Point Two already programmed into his ship's computer," Draycos said. "If we can retrieve that information, we can find them."

"And then what?" Uncle Virge countered. "Harper seemed to think Neverlin would put a couple of midway points into his schedule."

"And I'm sure he was right," Jack said. "Neverlin and Frost probably won't give anyone else the actual rendezvous point until the last minute."

"So I repeat: then what?"

"We'll figure out something," Jack assured him. "Let's just first make sure we get to Chiggers before he fixes Draycos's leak."