Timothy Zahn - Dragon and Slave

"Don't worry, I'm not," Uncle Virge said. "I hope that means that this call is good news."

"Actually, it's kind of mixed," Jack said. "The good news is that I'm in Gazen's office. The bad news is that the Chookoock family's using an old Brummgan operating system."

"How old?"

"Uh—" Jack peered at the complicated script, trying to find the registration date.

"There," Draycos said. A foreleg rose from the back of Jack's right hand, an extended claw pointing to the lower left part of the display. "If I read correctly, that would be... forty years ago."

Uncle Virge whistled softly. "Forty years? I'm sorry, lad, but all the tricks I

know are for modern computers with modern operating systems. Not for something that came off the Ark."

Jack sighed. "I was afraid of that."

"What about other information sources?" Draycos asked. "Surely someone has broken into such systems in the past."

"Yeah, what about that?" Jack asked. "Any of Uncle Virgil's old friends ever work on Brum-a-dum? Or could someone have a file in a thieves' database somewhere?"

"I can look," Uncle Virge said, his voice tight. "But unless we're very lucky, I

don't think we'll have enough time to find anything."

An uncomfortable shiver ran up Jack's back. "Why not?"

"Gazen has set up a special slave auction for five days from now," Uncle Virge said. "The prize item up for sale is you."

"Okay," Jack said, trying to keep his voice calm and casual. "That's not so bad.

Matter of fact, that might be the best way to get me out of here. Let them sell me, then I'll duck out on the buyer once we're off-planet."

"I wouldn't count on that if I were you," Uncle Virge warned. "Or don't you think the Chookoock family has dealt with unwilling slaves before?"

Jack felt his throat tighten. "You mean not just handcuffs or those control collar things they used on us on Sunright?"

Uncle Virge snorted gently. "Amateur stuff, used by people in a hurry. No, I expect the Chookoock family will be more thorough. A lot more thorough."

"So you're telling me I'm in trouble?"

"I'm telling you this whole plan was insane to begin with," Uncle Virge said flatly. "I'm telling you it's time to give up, pull the plug, and get out while you still can."

Jack stared at the picture on the display, his eyes tracing along the patterns of the stone making up the mansion walls. Big stones. Hard stones. As hard and cold and unfeeling as the people who lived within them. Even the mercenaries he'd dealt with had cared more about people than Gazen and the Chookoock family did.

What in space was he doing here, anyway?

"Jack?" Uncle Virge prompted. "Come on, lad, it's over. Cut your losses and let's blow this pop stand."

"And what will we do then?" Draycos asked. "Where will we go for the information we need?"

"Where we should have started in the first place," Uncle Virge said. "We dump this in StarForce's lap and let the professionals handle it."

"We've been through this, Uncle Virge," Jack said. "We can't let anyone else know about Draycos."

"Maybe we don't have to," Uncle Virge said. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but all we want is to keep Draycos safe from whoever the Valahgua have teamed up with.

Right?"

Jack frowned. He knew that tone of voice. There was some trick here. "All right," he said cautiously. "So?"

"So we go to StarForce," Uncle Virge said. "But we go anonymously."

"Pardon?" Draycos asked.

"Anonymously," Uncle Virge repeated. "We don't let them know who we are."

"I understand the word," Draycos said. "I do not understand the logic. How can we convince them of the truth without revealing my existence?"

"Ah, but we don't have to convince them of anything," Uncle Virge said.

"That's the beauty of it. All we have to do is drop them an anonymous tip that some mercenary group is using Djinn-90s to smuggle contraband. They get all hot and huffy and rush off to investigate."

"Assuming they believe us," Jack said. "They must get a million anonymous tips a

day."

"Even if they do believe, how does that help us?" Draycos added.

"Easy," Uncle Virge said. "We just watch over their shoulders while they investigate. They find our mercenary group, and there we are."

Jack rubbed his cheek. On the surface, it sounded reasonable enough. Best of all, he could do it from the comfort of the Essenay instead of from a dirty slave colony.

"What if they are delayed, or are too slow?" Draycos asked. "What if they give up their investigation and we do not know about it?"

"Nonsense," Uncle Virge scoffed. "We'll be on them like white on rice. We'll know everything they do, practically before they do it."

"And if we miss something important?" Draycos persisted. "We have less than three and one-half months before the full refugee fleet arrives. We cannot afford to waste any of that time."

"It wouldn't be a waste," Uncle Virge insisted. "StarForce knows what they're doing."

"No, he's right, Uncle Virge," Jack said. "We can't afford to take ourselves out of the game."

"But we wouldn't be," Uncle Virge said, almost pleading now. "And we could still poke around on our own if you wanted to. We could check with people who watch merc groups, or even go back to sorting through Djinn-90 sales records."

Jack shook his head. "No," he said firmly. Firmly, but with a wispy smoke ring of regret floating about the words. He hadn't realized just how much he wanted out of this until Uncle Virge dangled the possibility in front of him. "The timing's too tight to play games."

Uncle Virge sniffed loudly. "And exactly how much time have you wasted playing this slave game?"

"That's different," Jack said, glaring at the computer display. "It's here, right in front of me. I just have to figure out how to get at it." "And then what?" Uncle Virge asked. "What if you do find the group involved?

Are you and Draycos going to take them on all by yourselves? Them, and however many of the Valahgua have moved into the Orion Arm?"

Jack glanced down at Draycos's head. "We'll figure out that part when we get there."

"Of course," Uncle Virge said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Forgive me if I'm being difficult, but don't most professional assault teams do just a little more planning before hitting the beaches?"

"Uncle Virge, look—"

"No, you look, Jack lad," Uncle Virge interrupted. "Point one: you two can't stop the Valahgua alone. Not a chance. Point two: you probably can't even find the Valahgua and their allies alone. Tell me I'm wrong."

"Uncle Virge—"

"And point three," Uncle Virge went on quietly. "It seems to me that you've more than paid back your obligation to Draycos and his people. It's time for you to point him to the proper authorities, give him a hearty handshake—"

"Hold on a second," Jack cut him off. "I agreed to help Draycos save his people, remember? His part was to get me out of that jam with Braxton Universis, and he did. This is my half of the deal."

"Yes, I remember," Uncle Virge said. "I also remember that he spent maybe three weeks on your problem, while you've already put in a month and a half on his.

With no end in sight, I might point out. Doesn't seem very fair to me."

It didn't seem very fair, Jack had to admit. Especially since Draycos's part of the deal hadn't involved anything nearly as unpleasant as what Jack had had to go through, first as a junior mercenary soldier, and now as a slave.

And the dragon wasn't even arguing the point, he realized suddenly. He was just lying there quietly against Jack's skin, waiting for the discussion to be over.

Waiting for Jack to make a decision.

Jack felt his lip twist. Yes, he hated this. He really did. And Uncle Virge was right on all the other points, too. Even if he did manage to shake loose the data they were looking for, did any of them honestly think they could take on the bad guys all by themselves?