Timothy Zahn - Dragon and Slave

Uncle Virge was arguing for fairness. Draycos, Jack knew, would argue on the basis of right and wrong. That keeping a promise was the right thing to do, whether it seemed like a good deal or not.

But at the moment, neither argument mattered a rat's nest to Jack. What mattered was that he'd suffered through two weeks of slavery; and he was not going to let those two weeks go to waste. Come hell or high water or interstellar tax audits, he was going to get what he'd come here for.

Fairness could go jump. The noble K'da warrior ethic could go pole vault. It was Jack's professional pride that was on the line here. "Yeah, well, life never claimed to be fair in the first place," he told Uncle Virge. "And I've still got a couple of ideas to try."

"Jack, lad—"

"In the meantime, how about making yourself useful?" Jack said. "See what you can dig up about forty-year-old Brummgan computer systems."

Uncle Virge gave a sigh. "If you like," he said. "But I would strongly—strongly—suggest that you reconsider. The minute they start getting you ready for the sale, our chances of getting you out go way down."

"I'm not worried," Jack said, wishing that was actually true. "Look, I've got to go. I'll talk to you later."

He turned off the comm clip and returned it to its hiding place. "That was our bi-monthly argument with Uncle Virge about chucking this whole thing," he commented as he smoothed the sole back in place. "I don't know why we have to keep going over the same territory this way."

"Decisions of ethics and behavior are not one-time events," Draycos told him.

"A

person must renew such decisions each day. Sometimes several times in the same day."

"I suppose," Jack said. "Seems like an awful waste of effort, though."

"Not really," Draycos said. "Each time you make such a decision, you grow stronger and more resolved. You become able to face even more difficult challenges."

"Great," Jack growled. "Make the tough choices, and they get tougher."

For a moment Draycos was silent. " 'A tree within a quiet glade will break in gentle rains,' " he murmured. " 'But one upon a windy coast can face the hurricanes.' "

Jack rolled his eyes. "Don't try to tell me that one comes from an old K'da warrior poem."

"Not a warrior poem, no," the dragon said. "But I spent some time on the seashore once, and what I observed there—"

"Never mind," Jack interrupted. "I'm sorry I asked."

"As you usually are with such things," Draycos said, a hint of humor peeking through. "What do we do now?"

"Good question," Jack confessed. "Let me think." For a long minute he stared at the stubborn computer, shifting plans and ideas around in his mind like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

He couldn't get into the system. Therefore, he had to sneak in when the system was already up and running. That would be pretty tricky. Alternatively, he could be here when Gazen first started up the computer in the morning and read the codes as they were fed in. That would be even trickier.

But then, as Uncle Virgil had been fond of saying, tricky was the Morgan family middle name. "Okay," he said, shutting off the computer. "Time to switch to Plan B."

"Which is?"

"You'll see," Jack said, standing up and glancing over Gazen's desk. A small but distinctive paperweight caught his eye. Easy to carry, and something Gazen would definitely miss. Perfect. Picking it up, he dropped it into his pocket.

"What is that for?" Draycos asked as Jack started for the door. "A souvenir of our visit," Jack said. "Come on, we've got work to do."

"Where are we going?" Draycos asked as Jack eased the door open a crack.

"To the kitchen," Jack told him, looking carefully outside. No one was in sight.

"I just hope they haven't gotten started on breakfast yet."

"The kitchen?" Draycos asked, sounding confused. "Why?"

Jack smiled tightly. "I'm hungry."

The kitchen was deserted when Jack and Draycos arrived. Deserted and dark both, with only a handful of small night lights showing.

"The food supplies will be back in the pantry," Draycos pointed out as Jack wove his way carefully through the maze of shadows.

"I was kidding about being hungry," Jack told him. His stomach growled.

"Mostly, anyway."

He stopped beside the recipe desk, and the corner-mounted recorder he'd seen on his first trip through the place. "This is why we're here," he said, pulling the recorder from its attachment.

"What is it?" Draycos asked.

"A recorder," Jack said, turning it toward one of the lights for a better look.

"Video and audio both. I figure there's no reason to let that camera in Gazen's office go to waste."

He glanced around, looking for tools. A butter knife and seafood fork would probably do, he decided. "Watch the door," he ordered Draycos, heading for a stack of silverware drawers. "Let me know if you hear any movement over by the slave stairs."

There was a surge of weight on his shoulders as the dragon leaped out from the back of his shirt collar. Silently, he padded off toward the door.

The recorder was a simple, off-the-shelf model, with few complications and not a

single shred of security. It took Jack only a minute to take off the outer casing, strip the guts out of the gadget, and put the casing back together.

Reattaching the empty shell to the desk, he put the recorder equipment into his pocket and headed for the exit. "Finished," he called softly. "Draycos?"

He rounded a preparation island and stopped. There was the door straight ahead, a wide, dark shadow against the pale white kitchen walls. The dragon was nowhere to be seen. "Draycos?"

"Here," the other called from somewhere to Jack's left. "Come and see."

Frowning, Jack followed the voice. Behind a large food warmer, he found Draycos standing against the wall. Above his head was a wide, flat gray box set into the wall at Brummgan eye-level. "Trouble?" Jack asked.

"Just the opposite," Draycos said. "I was scouting and found the box you see above me. Do the words on it say what I believe they say?"

Jack stepped close and squinted at the box. In the dim light the lettering was hard to make out. "Spare... spare something," he said. "Spare...?" "Spare keys?" Draycos suggested.

Jack felt his heartbeat pick up slightly. Spare keys? "This is definitely worth a look," he agreed. Pressing his back against the box, he held a hand out to Draycos. The dragon put a forepaw on it and melted up his sleeve. There was the usual shifting on his skin as he leaned out over the box door.

And there was it was again: the same odd sensation Jack had felt outside Gazen's office. As if the dragon were somehow slipping...

Another wiggle, and he was back. "There are six rows of hooks inside, with five in each row," he reported. "Each hook is labeled, and holds one to three keys."

"Any alarms?"

"None that I could see," Draycos told him.

Jack looked at the side of the box, noted the simple-looking lock that held the lid in place. This seemed way too good to be true. "I guess they figured hiding it back here was enough," he said. "Could you see the labels?"

"Not well enough to read," Draycos said.

"Well, keys are always worth checking out," Jack said, pulling out his lockpick.

"Let's get this thing open."

He had the lock popped in ten seconds flat. Even with the out-of-the-way location, he thought dryly, whoever had been in charge of extra keys must not have read the Chookoock family security manual. Taking half a step back, he swung back the door.

And was slammed suddenly and violently backward as Draycos leaped out between him and the box.

He flailed for balance, but the shove had been too hard. Gurgling helplessly in his throat, he fell back onto the tile floor. "Draycos!"