Dragonback 01 Dragon and Thief (16 page)

No. For the moment the enemy had the upper hand. Draycos would
have to watch, and wait, and be patient. If they wanted Jack alive,
they must also want something from him. That meant they would
eventually have to wake him up. Once Jack was again able to move on his
own, there would be time to think about escape.

The group reached the spaceport and went inside, making their way
around the outer area where the tubes connected.

Draycos eased an eye just far enough up on Jack's chest to see out
the V of his shirt. Eventually, he knew, they would reach a ship.

Eventually, they did.

It was a rather impressive ship, if Jack's spacecraft was a proper
standard to judge by. It was nearly twice as big as the
Essenay
,
with an elaborate sleekness about it that implied wealth and social
position. Or at least with the Shontine it would have implied that. He
studied the craft as they walked toward it, noting its shape and design
and features as best he could. Someday he might need to identify it.

Raven, still in the lead, stopped at the bottom of the gangway and
waited for the others to catch up. "All right," he said when they were
gathered together. "You know the rendezvous point. We've already lost
two weeks with the kid's disappearing act; the boss will skin all of us
alive if you don't get him there fast."

"After all this, he'd frinking well better cooperate, too," the
one named Drabs grunted.

"Let the boss worry about that part," Raven told him. "You just
concentrate on getting him there in one piece, all right?"

"Should we not do a full-body search of him first?" the Brummga
asked.

"What for?" Raven scoffed. "Weapons? Escape gear? Pretty tricky to
use something like that when you're sound asleep."

"In my profession we do not take unnecessary chances," the Brummga
countered stiffly.

"In mine we do what we're told," Raven said, just as stiffly. "You
strap him to the bunk, you give him a booster shot every twelve hours,
and that's
all
you do. You don't feed him, you don't bathe him,
you don't read him bedtime stories. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," the Brummga rumbled.

"You off, then?" Drabs asked.

Raven nodded. "I'm going to be late as it is. You just get the kid
to the boss as fast as you can burn fuel. I'll see you later."

"Right," Drabs said. "Good luck."

Raven nodded and headed back along the tube. Lugging Jack along
with them, the others went into the ship.

The trip was much quieter than Draycos had expected it to be. From
what he'd gleaned of the Brummga's attitude, he thought the other might
disobey the orders about searching Jack. If that had happened, and if
he had discovered Draycos, the K'da would have had a difficult decision
to make.

But no one searched Jack. In fact, except for the injections Drabs
gave him twice each day, no one paid any attention to him at all. It
was exactly as if they were couriers delivering a package.

The trip was also quite boring. More than once Draycos thought
about going off and exploring the ship, particularly during the hours
when everyone seemed to be asleep. But there was no way for him to know
what kind of monitoring system might be in place to keep watch on the
rooms and corridors. The
Essenay
had such a system—Uncle Virge
had made a point of bringing that to his attention early on—and it
seemed unlikely that people who engaged in casual murder would neglect
such basic security.

He also gave considerable thought to the idea of overwhelming the
crew and taking over the ship. Once Drabs's injection schedule was
interrupted, Jack would surely regain consciousness. Together, they
ought to be able to fly this ship somewhere to freedom.

But again, not knowing exactly what he was up against made that an
unacceptably risky move. With only Drabs and the Brummga aboard, he
would have had a good chance of defeating them before they realized
what was happening. But from the bits of conversation he was able to
overhear when Jack's cabin door was open, it was clear that there was a
flight crew, as well. Their numbers, their locations, and their
routines were all unknown.

Over and over again, his military instructors had told him that a
good warrior never took foolish chances unless there was no other
alternative. The alternative here was to simply wait.

So he waited. That didn't mean he had to like it.

Finally, after three long days, they arrived.

Back on Vagran, Drabs and the Brummga had carried Jack through the
streets like a drunken friend being taken back to his ship. At this end
of the trip, they were better prepared with a collapsible stretcher,
set up just inside the hatch. The Brummga carried Jack there and laid
him on it. Then he and Drabs rolled the boy down the gangway to a
waiting ground vehicle.

The back of the vehicle had no windows, but Draycos managed to get
a few glances before the doors closed on them. They were in another
spaceport, a much bigger one this time. Bouncing along in the darkness
inside the vehicle, he wondered if they had reached their final
destination or would be transferring to another spacecraft.

The ride was quite short, no more than a few minutes.

There was movement outside the vehicle, and then Drabs opened the
rear doors and he and the Brummga rolled Jack's stretcher out onto the
ground.

Rising from the ground beside them was the most impressive
spacecraft Draycos had seen yet.

He peered out at the vessel as the Brummga rolled the stretcher
toward the gangway, a strange sensation stirring inside him. A Shontine
ship of this size and design would be either an expensive private yacht
or else the business spacecraft of a major corporation. He knew he
couldn't jump to that same conclusion in this unfamiliar region of
space; but even so, it certainly appeared that someone with great
wealth or power or both was interested in Jack. Very interested indeed.

But why? What would anyone want with a young human adrift on his
own?

Or was there something about himself that Jack hadn't told him?

It was as he was thinking about that, and studying the ship, that
he saw the word-symbols written on the hull beside the entrance.

A fresh surge of emotion flowed into him. Words! Identification
words, perhaps. Maybe even the spacecraft's name.

Except that Jack was unconscious and couldn't see them. And
Draycos couldn't read human word-symbols.

The K'da stretched his claws in and out of their sheaths in
agonized frustration. It was a vital clue, possibly the precise clue
Jack needed to learn the truth behind all this. He couldn't afford to
let the opportunity slip away.

He would just have to memorize the symbols, that was all. Memorize
their shapes and their positioning, so that he could reproduce them
later.

But even as he realized what he had to do, he knew with a sinking
feeling that the task was beyond his capabilities. There were too many
letters there, and his visual memory was simply not good enough to hold
their shapes over the hours or days that might elapse before he could
show them to Jack.

He would try—he would certainly try. But he knew that he would
fail.

Unless . . .

He smiled grimly to himself. No, he couldn't memorize the letters'
shapes. But perhaps there was another way. A way that only a
poet-warrior of the K'da could use.

Gazing at the symbols as the stretcher was rolled toward the ship,
he set to work.

The first thing Jack noticed as he worked his way slowly back
toward consciousness was that his neck felt funny.

Not that it hurt. It didn't, really. But it definitely felt funny.

Abruptly, he realized why. He was sitting upright in a chair, with
his head bowed down toward his chest. The funny feeling was coming from
the back of his neck, strained as it was by the pull of his head.

He was fully awake now. But that didn't mean the rest of the world
had to know it. There were soft voices carrying on a quiet conversation
somewhere nearby, and there was an equally soft light showing against
his eyelids. Maybe if he let them think he was still asleep, he would
learn something that would help him get out of here.

Or even figure out exactly where "here" was.

It might also be a good idea to take a quick inventory and see
what kind of shape he was in. Aside from his neck, which was starting
to feel a little stiff now, nothing hurt. Not even his shins, which
should still be tender from Draycos's misfired balcony leap. The fact
that they weren't meant he'd been kept asleep for at least a couple of
days.

A couple of days of travel time? Probably.

Which, unfortunately, meant he probably wasn't on the Vagran
Colony anymore.

So much for getting to the spaceport where the
Essenay
would be waiting. He hoped Uncle Virge had figured that out by now and
gotten off the planet.

The lack of pain was the plus side of his physical condition. On
the minus side, his stomach felt very empty. Being asleep without
eating for a couple of days would do that, too. With his nose six
inches from his chest, he also noticed that he was starting to smell a
little.

So they'd drugged him with something, tossed him aboard a ship or
transport, and lugged him some unknown distance across the Orion Arm.
The big question was, where?

The other big question was, why?

"Good afternoon, Jack," a voice said.

It was all Jack could do to keep himself from jerking with
reaction. If he lived halfway to forever, that was one voice he knew he
would never, ever forget.

It was the cold, heartless, snakelike voice he'd heard on Iota
Klestis. The voice of the man in charge of the group sifting through
the wreckage of the
Havenseeker
.

Maybe even the man who had ordered the K'da and Shontine ships
destroyed in the first place.

"You can lose the act," the voice said, going even colder with
impatience. "My instruments tell me you regained consciousness some
thirty seconds ago. Don't waste my time."

Slowly, blinking his eyes a couple of times, Jack raised his head.

He was in a small but very nicely furnished room, seated in a
chair across from an ornately carved wooden desk. The way the furniture
was fastened down, he guessed he was aboard a spaceship.

A group of lights on the desk had been arranged to shine directly
into his face. They weren't painfully bright, at least not once his
eyes adjusted to them, but they were more than bright enough to wash
out his view of whoever or whatever was seated on the other side of the
desk.

He also noted that his hands, resting in his lap, were handcuffed
together. He'd missed that in his earlier inventory.

"Okay," he said, squinting his eyes a little against the glare of
the lights. Fleetingly, he wondered what had happened to Draycos, then
put the thought out of his mind. He had enough troubles of his own
right now. "I'm awake. What now?"

"I want your uncle," Snake Voice said, his voice coming from
behind the lights. "Where is he?"

Jack grimaced. Obvious, of course. They were busy cleaning up
loose ends, and Uncle Virge and the
Essenay
were a very sizable
loose end. "I don't know," he said.

"I'd advise you not to lie," Snake Voice said, his voice going
still colder. "We know perfectly well that he didn't simply desert you
on Vagran. You either have a prearranged rendezvous point, or else
there are several possible places where you can meet. I want the list."

Jack shook his head. "Look, I really don't know where he is," he
said, putting some pleading into his voice.

For a moment Snake Voice sat quietly. Jack forced himself not to
squirm, wondering what would be next. A major interrogation, probably,
as they tried to find out who else he might have told about the K'da
and Shontine.

Then, of course, they would kill him. When he didn't come back, he
wondered distantly, would Uncle Virge be smart enough to go to the
Internes Police with his story?

Would they believe him even if he did? A ship's computer wasn't
exactly a legal witness.

"Well, then, I suppose we'll have to say goodbye," Snake Voice
said at last. "If you can't deliver your uncle, then you're of no use
to us. We'll just have to kill you and find someone else to help us."

Jack blinked again, nearly missing the threat as his brain latched
onto the last part of the sentence. Someone to help them? Was this some
sort of lame trick?

And then, with a sudden flash of hope, he realized he'd gotten it
all wrong. Snake Voice wasn't here to clean up loose ends on the K'da
and Shontine thing, because Snake Voice didn't know Jack was the one
who'd stumbled into that mess. This was something else entirely.

And they weren't looking for Uncle Virge, the ship's computer.
They were looking for Uncle Virgil, the professional thief and con man.

"Wait a minute," he said. "Are you talking about a job?"

"That's none of your concern," Snake Voice said. "My business is
with Virgil Morgan, not some half-grown nephew."

"Oh," Jack said, cocking his head a little to the side. "Gee,
that's too bad. Because if you want to talk to Uncle Virgil, you first
have to talk to me."

"Watch your mouth, kid," another familiar voice threatened from
behind Jack.

He looked back over his shoulder to see Drabs standing guard by
the door. "Oh, hello, Drabs," he said, waving his handcuffed hands
cheerfully. "Lieutenant Raven step out for a minute?"

Drabs started to sputter something—"So the boy knows your name,"
Snake Voice said icily, cutting the other off in mid-sputter. "Both
your names. That's very clever, Drabs. Very clever indeed."

Drabs looked about as unhappy as Jack had ever seen a man look.
"Sir," he said, his voice pleading. "It's not—I mean, we didn't—it was
the Brummga. He—"