Dragonback 02 Dragon and Soldier (26 page)

"Jack!" Draycos called.

And then, like one of Uncle Virgil's dope-slaps on the side of his
head, the obvious answer struck him.

If there wasn't time to pick and choose what he wanted, he would
just take everything.

"Thirty seconds," he promised Draycos, grabbing another tube and
jamming it into the receptacle. "Make sure the coast is clear," he
added, keying for a complete copy of the Shamshir's rival mercenary
data lists.

And then, with a terrific concussion, the whole building seemed to
lift itself up and drop back onto the ground.

"What was that?" Jack yelled. At least, he thought he yelled it.
With his ears ringing from the blast, he couldn't even hear his own
voice.

Draycos was at his side, mouthing something. "What?" Jack shouted
back.

In answer, the dragon hooked the claws of one of his forepaws into
Jack's jacket sleeve and tugged him toward the door. "Wait a second,"
Jack said, reaching over and popping the data tube.

Just in time. Even as he pulled the tube free, the building's
power shut down, taking the computer with it. Draycos tugged again.
"Right," Jack agreed, shoving the data tube deep into an inner pocket.
"Let's go."

He fully expected there to be another blast or two along the way.
But they reached the outer door without that happening. Jack peered
outside, started to step through the doorway—

And found himself yanked back inside by the claws still hooked
into his sleeve as a dark aircraft roared past overhead.

Reflexively, he dropped into a crouch. "Uh-oh," he muttered.

"We are under attack," he heard Draycos's voice distantly through
his slowly recovering hearing.

"No kidding, Sherlock," Jack said, looking carefully around the
door jamb. In the flickering light of the burning hut, the Lynx
transport he'd arrived in seemed intact. Or at least as intact as it
had been when he'd left it. Beyond it . . .

He tensed. Beyond the Lynx, where Tango Five Zulu's borrowed
Flying Turtle had been, there was nothing but a gaping crater.

"There," Draycos said, pointing a claw. "They are there."

Jack looked. In the near distance he could see the shape of the
Flying Turtle scooting across the sky.

So Alison had managed to get the thing started and into the air.
And not a borrowed second too soon, either, from the looks of it. "Who
else is around?" he asked.

"I can hear two Shamshir fighter craft," Draycos said. "Both are
in pursuit of Alison's vehicle."

"Okay," Jack said, getting back to his feet again. "Let's see if
we can make it to the Lynx."

"It is damaged," Draycos reminded him.

"Would you rather walk away from poison gas?"

"Point," Draycos conceded, putting a paw on Jack's hand and
slithering up his sleeve. "Let us go."

Again, they made it across the open area without drawing fire.
Apparently, none of Lieutenant Cue Ball's men wanted him badly enough
to stick around near the burning hut. "We're not going to get very
far," he warned, glancing at the fuel reading as he dropped into the
pilot's seat. "But we should at least make it to the woods."

The comm beeped. "Montana?" Alison's voice came.

Jack flipped the switch. "I'm here," he confirmed. "You all right?"

"Oh, we're just sweetness and light out here," she growled back.
"Sorry, but we had to pull out. If I can shake these two birds, I'll
circle back and get you."

"No, don't," Jack said. "You just stay ahead of them and head for
the hills. I can get out on my own."

"But—"

And suddenly, outside the windscreen, the ground flashed with
light. Jack leaned forward over the control board, trying to see what
had happened.

One of the Shamshir fighters had become an airborne fireball.

Jack blinked. No. Not even Alison. Not even Alison and Jommy
together, hotshot teenage mercenaries that they were, could have taken
out a professional combat pilot. Could they?

And then, even as his brain tried to make sense of it, the second
fighter veered away from its prey. It cut hard to the left, its guns
blazing full power, and exploded into a fireball of its own.

"Jack?" a familiar voice called.

Jack felt his breath go out of him in a whoosh, his muscles going
limp with relief.

He'd forgotten all about Uncle Virge.

"I'm here, Uncle Virge," he called back. "On the ground, in the
Lynx near the burning hut. Leave the Flying Turtle alone—they're on our
side. Anyone else in the area?"

"Looks like they've got three more fighters coming in from the
south," Uncle Virge reported. "Still a few minutes away. Pretty
amateurish for supposed professionals, if you want my humble opinion."

"They weren't expecting to have to fight around here," Jack said,
gazing thoughtfully out the windscreen into the distance. An idea was
starting to form in the back of his mind.

"I'm coming in to get you," Uncle Virge said. "Did you know that
fire is putting out xancrene gas?"

"Yeah, I did, thanks," Jack said, keying on the engines. "On
second thought, I'll meet you two miles west of the city."

"There's no need for that, Jack lad," Uncle Virge protested. "I
wouldn't trust that flying cattle car of yours farther than I can
bounce a barge. Don't worry; the xancrene is mostly blowing north."

"I wasn't worried about the xancrene," Jack told him, lifting the
transport into the air. "And relax, this thing will get me far enough."

"Jack lad—"

"Look, I know what I'm doing," Jack interrupted him. "Alison? You
still there?"

"Still here," she confirmed. "Thanks for the assist."

"Like I said, I have friends," Jack said. "Look, I'd ask you all
aboard, but we really don't have the space. I'm afraid you'll have to
find your own way off Sunright."

"That's okay," she assured him. "We'll manage."

"The Edge will be watching for you," he warned.

"Like I said, we'll manage," she said. "I have friends, too. See
you."

The comm clicked off. "Yeah," Jack muttered, her last words
tingling across his mind.
I have friends too
. . .

He headed off into the night. Directly ahead, the dim lights of
the mine buildings loomed against the darkness.

The mine that had sparked all this trouble in the first place. The
mine that had trapped both the Agri and the Parprins into devil's
bargains with greedy mercenaries. The jackpot both the Shamshir and
Whinyard's Edge were playing their deadly little games for.

As Uncle Virgil would have said, it was time to take the jackpot
off the table.

He lined up the transport's nose on the entrance to the main mine
building. "Draycos, you said there were some grenades back there?"

"Yes," Draycos said. "Nine of them."

"I don't suppose you'd know how to rig a delay fuse on something
like that."

"Explosives are not to be dealt with lightly or casually," the
dragon said, his voice starting to sound suspicious. "I am not trained
with these particular devices."

"Never mind, then," Jack said. "We'll do it the old-fashioned way.
Can you get them out of the locker and line them up along the floor?
Straight down the middle should do just fine."

Draycos's head lifted up from Jack's shoulder. "Jack, what is it
you intend to do?"

Jack nodded toward the mine buildings. "The Shamshir want the
mine," he said. "So do the Whinyard's Edge, if you believe Lieutenant
Cue Ball. What do you suppose they'd do if the mine wasn't there
anymore?"

Draycos pondered a moment. "Those who care only for its wealth
would leave this world."

He twisted his head around to look squarely into Jack's eyes. "But
this is not your property, Jack," he added. "You have no right to
choose its destruction."

"Not even to save people caught in a war none of them want?" Jack
countered. "Come on, K'da warrior, let's hear those ethics of yours. Is
the wealth from a mine more important than the people who own it?"

"The people are of course more important," the dragon said, his
voice oddly sad. "But there must be another way."

"There isn't," Jack said firmly. "Look, I trust you in warrior
stuff. Trust me in this, okay?"

Draycos bounded from Jack's collar, landing on the deck behind
him. "Very well," he said reluctantly. "If there is no other way, then
let us do it."

Jack smiled tightly. The K'da poet-warrior had done his part of
the job. Now it was time for the human con artist to do his. "Just line
up those grenades," he said. "I'll do the rest."

The main doors were wide and tall, designed to let large
ore-carrying vehicles in and out. They were also built pretty strong.

Fortunately, the Lynx was built even stronger. With a crash of
breaking wood and the screech of torn metal, it broke through the doors
and rumbled into the main building beyond.

"How are you doing?" Jack shouted over the crunch of demolished
support beams and wall siding as he drove the Lynx inward toward the
tall tower that stood over the mine opening itself.

"I am nearly ready," Draycos called back.

"Good," Jack said. "Brace yourself."

And with a final thunderous crash, he slammed the transport
through the lower part of the tower and settled to the floor squarely
on top of the shaft leading down into the ground.

"We're here," Jack announced, shutting off the engines and sliding
out of his seat. "Let's make tracks."

Draycos looked up from the neat row of grenades he had laid out
from the rear of the compartment to just behind Jack's seat. "Pardon?"

"Let's get out of here," Jack clarified. "Come aboard."

With Draycos on his back, Jack picked his way through the
splintered wood and other debris outside. The
Essenay
was
waiting just outside the entrance, bobbing slightly on its lifters with
an air of worried impatience. "Come on, lad, come on," Uncle Virge
urged as Jack ran up the ramp. "Those other fighters will be here any
minute."

"Then let's give them something to light their way," Jack said as
he raced to the cockpit and slid into the pilot's seat. "I want a quick
laser burst straight in the hole we made."

"Targeted where?" Uncle Virge asked.

"Targeted on the back of the transport we made the hole with,"
Jack said, doing a quick check of the
Essenay
's weapons systems.

"The transport?" Uncle Virge asked, sounding confused. "But—?"

"Never mind," Jack said. "You just aim. I'll fire."

"We should move back," Draycos murmured. "The blast could be
considerable."

"Good point," Jack agreed, keying the
Essenay
into a fast
backward drift. "Everyone ready?"

"I suppose," Uncle Virge said. Draycos didn't answer.

"Good," Jack said. "Here goes."

The lasers flickered, and he held his breath. If this didn't work
. . .

And then, from the entrance came a flash of return light, then the
roiling flicker of fire. The rest of the Lynx's fuel had caught. "That
should do it," Jack said, pulling the
Essenay
around and
heading for the sky. "Let's grab some distance before the grenades go."

"The
grenades
?" Uncle Virge echoed. "Jack, lad—"

And then, the grenades went.

It was even more spectacular than Jack had expected. The sides of
the main building blew out as a ring of fire sliced horizontally
outward in all directions. The tower, directly above the explosion,
shot probably half a dozen feet straight up, then toppled over. It
landed on one of the two side buildings, crashing through its roof.

A few seconds after it had begun, it was over. The buildings had
collapsed into shattered ruin, with everything flammable in them
burning furiously. It was like one of the triumphal bonfires Jack had
read about, except that there was no one here celebrating anything.

Maybe the Agri who had worked so hard to create the mine would
thank him. Eventually.

He took a deep breath. "Well," he said, to no one in particular.
"I guess that's that."

"It is indeed," Uncle Virge agreed, sounding rather awestruck
himself. "Never let it be said that you do things halfway, Jack lad."

Jack pursed his lips. Maybe. Maybe not. For now, he could only
hope he'd accomplished what he'd set out to do. "We'd better get out of
here before those fighters arrive," he said, reaching for the controls.
"You with me, Draycos?"

"I am here," the dragon said softly. "Yes; let us go."

"Sorry, lad," Uncle Virge said, his voice as quiet and apologetic
and sincere as a professional fundraiser. "I'm afraid the Shamshir
Mercenaries keep pretty sloppy records on their competitors' aircraft.
There isn't any way we're going to be able to trace those Djinn-90s
from this."

"Uh-huh," Jack said, gazing across the table with a fascinated
repugnance as he watched Draycos tearing into his fourth soup bowl full
of hamburger, tuna fish, chocolate sauce, and motor oil.

It wasn't that he couldn't understand the dragon's hunger. After
all, Draycos hadn't had much to eat for the past three weeks. But the
thought of that particular food combination still sent Jack's own taste
buds screaming for cover. "So that's it, huh?"

"That's it," Uncle Virge confirmed. "And if I may say so, you
might recall that I thought the idea was doomed idiocy from the start.
So now we can get on with a proper job of saving Draycos's people?"

"By which you mean turning him over to the Star-orce?" Jack
suggested.

Draycos looked up, his long tongue nicking a bit of tuna fish off
one corner of his snout. "We cannot do that, Jack," he protested. "It
is too dangerous."

"Relax," Jack said, taking a sip of his fizzy-soda. Yes, Uncle
Virge had sounded quiet and apologetic and sincere, all right.
Unfortunately for him, Jack had heard that tone of voice before. Many
times before. "You know, Draycos, for being such a clever K'da
poet-warrior, you're kind of slow on the uptake sometimes."