Timothy Zahn: Dragon and Thief

"We all like to be alone every so often," Jack said gruffly, trying to hide the sudden pang of emotion. Loneliness. Whether he'd meant to or not, the dragon had touched a painful nerve with that one. "So why me? Why didn't you wrap yourself around a tree or something?"

"It does not work that way," Draycos said. "We must have a proper host. I do not know what it is that makes one species acceptable and another not. Perhaps none of the K'da do."

"Oh," Jack said, for lack of anything better to say. "So... what now?"

"That is your decision," Draycos said. "Do you wish me to leave?"

The obvious answer—yes!—unexpectedly got stuck in Jack's throat. "If I said yes, where would you go?" he asked instead. "I mean, there's no one here but me."

"After six hours had passed, I would die," Draycos said softly. "But I am a warrior of the K'da. I will not force myself upon you if you do not wish it."

"Yeah," Jack muttered, hunching his shoulders with indecision. Intriguing though this might be, he still had troubles of his own. The last thing he could afford right now was to take on passengers.

Especially a passenger who looked like a bright gold dragon. That was definitely not the way to keep a low profile. "Look, Draycos—"

"Before you decide, I must add one other piece of information," the dragon said. "The reason we are standing amid the wreckage of my ship is that my people were attacked. Moreover, we were attacked by the ultimate weapon of the Valahgua, our mortal enemies."

Jack shook his head. "Never heard of them. Uncle Virge?"

"No reference on the books," the other said.

"I would not expect you to know of them," Draycos said.

"Like us, they live a long way from here. Our voyage took nearly two years, human measure, and carried us across a great void of space."

"You mean like from another spiral arm?" Jack hazarded, trying to visualize the map of the Milky Way galaxy from the limited and highly informal schooling Uncle Virgil had given him between jobs. All of explored space, both the human-colonized regions as well as all the other known alien species and planets, lay along the broad band of stars called the Orion Arm. To get here from outside that band would be quite a trip.

"That is correct," Draycos confirmed. "We came in hopes of fleeing the Valahgua and their terrible weapon. Yet the weapon was here waiting for us."

"They must have followed you."

"Impossible," Draycos said. "As I said, their weapon was here ahead of us."

"And on human-designed ships, too," Uncle Virge pointed out. "Unless your Valahgua fly Djinn-90s."

"The only explanation was that we were betrayed," Draycos said. "You have to help me find those responsible."

"Oh, no I don't," Jack retorted. "Look, I'm sorry your people got nailed. But this isn't any of my business."

"You are wrong," Draycos said firmly. "The Death chooses no favorites, be they Shontine or K'da or human. There is no defense against it, and there is no bargaining with the Valahgua. If they have formed a secret alliance with one of the species in this region, all of your people are in deadly danger."

"What do you mean, no defense?" Uncle Virge asked.

"There is no material that can block the weapon," Draycos said. "Its range is short, but all within that range die. We must bring warning to your people."

Jack made a face. "Yes, well, that might be a little difficult," he said. "You see—"

"Quiet!" Draycos cut him off suddenly.

"What?" Jack whispered.

"Footsteps," Draycos whispered back. "Someone is coming."

Jack was still holding the alien data reader. Flipping up his shirttail, he stuffed the gadget into one of the back pockets of his jeans. "How many?" he whispered.

"Only one set of footsteps," Draycos murmured back. The dragon head had again lifted out of Jack's shoulder, the long snout poking out under the edge of the shirt. "He moves cautiously, like a warrior."

"Or a cop," Jack muttered, crossing as silently as he could to the chair where he'd hung his jacket. He couldn't hear the footsteps himself, but he didn't doubt the dragon's pointy little ears for a minute. "Any other way out of here?"

"There is the bubble," Draycos said. The snout lifted to point toward the ceiling. "But the ladder is no longer secure."

Jack looked up as he got his arms into his jacket sleeves. It was a good twenty feet up to the first landing, plus another ten feet to a second landing and then the broken glass of the bubble. And the ladder did indeed look pretty rickety.

But the chance of a two-story fall was still better than tangling with a trained soldier. Or with a cop. "I'll risk it," he said, shifting direction toward the ladder. He reached it, got a grip on the uprights—

"Solidify!" a hard, flat voice snapped from the doorway behind him.

Jack froze in place, wincing. Caught like a rat in a box; and he still hadn't heard any footsteps. Whoever this guy was, he was way too good for Jack's liking. "Don't shoot," he called, putting some near-panic into his voice. "Please don't shoot."

"Turn around," the voice ordered. "Keep your hands up."

Jack obeyed, turning just far enough to keep his right shoulder toward the newcomer. The tangler belted at his left hip was a short-range weapon, and he wanted to keep it his little secret as long as possible.

The figure standing just inside the room to the right of the doorway was big and wide and definitely not human. He was a Brummga, most of his round face obscured by his helmet. He was dressed in a mismatched collection of ground-soldier combat gear, with a dark red helmet, blue protector vest, and green combat fatigues. A small orange medkit hung from the left side of his belt beside some kind of wand in a narrow, brown-and-white-striped holster. The combined effect of his body shape and the colorful outfit made him look rather comical.

But there was nothing funny about the shoulder-slung weapon pointed in Jack's direction. It was black and shiny and nasty looking, and would probably make a serious mess if the Brummga pulled the trigger. Whatever thoughts Jack might have had about using his tangler vanished quietly into the morning mists.

But he had to do something. If these Valahgua guys Draycos had mentioned didn't want any witnesses to their attack, a Brummga was just the sort of boneheaded hatchetman to cheerfully clean the plate for them. Jack's only hope was to convince the Brummga that he knew absolutely nothing about what was going on.

"Who are you?" the Brummga demanded. "What are you doing here?"

"I didn't mean anything," Jack pleaded, using the frightened-child whine that Uncle Virgil had found so useful on so many jobs. "I saw the ship and just wanted to see if there was anything I could use. I didn't mean anything."

"How did you see the ship?" the Brummga asked. "Where did you come from?"

"Right over there," Jack said, waving vaguely off to the side. "We've got a little place off in the forest."

The alien made a sound like a bass drum being attacked by a gang of chipmunks. "How many of you are there?" he demanded, starting across the room toward Jack. "What did you see?"

"What do you mean?" Jack asked, trying to sound bewildered. It wasn't easy to out-stupid a Brummga, but he was determined to give it his best shot. "We saw this ship. I told you that."

"Before you saw the ship," the Brummga growled. He was close enough now for Jack to see that his fatigues carried no military rank badges or insignia. "What happened before?"

"Well, there was a lot of noise," Jack huffed, as if that should be obvious, still keeping his right shoulder toward the Brummga as the other approached. The tangler was no longer an option, not with that gun pointed at his chest. But his shirt and jacket were still open in front, and the last thing he wanted was to let the other get a clear view of Draycos wrapped around his chest. "What do you mean, what happened?"