Timothy Zahn - Dragon and Slave

Neverlin said. "As far as he's concerned, they're expendables." He cocked an eyebrow at Jack. "Or hadn't you noticed that he didn't actually bring any of them aboard with him?"

"So you don't think they're of any use as bargaining chips?" Gazen asked.

"Not a chance," Neverlin said. "Take them back to their huts, or burn them where they stand. Your choice."

Gazen nodded and reached to his collar—

"Wait," Jack said.

The instant the word was out of his mouth he wished he could call it back.

Gazen surely wouldn't simply kill Maerlynn and the others, at least not here and now.

Even if he decided their actions deserved that, he would more likely have them whipped to death as an object lesson for the rest of the slaves.

But Jack hadn't thought it through quickly enough. And now it was too late.

"Well, well," Neverlin said, smiling smugly. "So he really does have some feeling for those dirty little zeros out there, does he? This is one for the record books."

"Or else he's just squeamish," Gazen rumbled contemptuously. "You should have seen his face after those Wistawki passed him in the kitchen this morning."

"You didn't need to whip them," Jack ground out. "They didn't steal the food.

I did."

Gazen snorted. "Don't make me laugh. You were in the frying pan all night."

"Forget the food," Neverlin said impatiently. "Tell me, Jack. How much do you really care about that riffraff out there?"

"And decide quickly," Gazen added. "I've got a squad at the upper windows with sniper rifles trained on them."

Jack swallowed. The trap had been sprung, and here they were, with all of the Brummgas clustered close around him.

But Draycos was still lying quietly against his skin. What in space was he waiting for?

And then, as he focused again on the group by the door, he suddenly realized what the reason was.

"Oh, yeah, that's real brave," he said, putting as much scorn into his voice as he could. "Shooting unarmed slaves from windows. That's the way a man does business."

"As opposed to whatever you did to my guards out there?" Gazen countered.

"You should be happy I didn't kill them," Jack said, hoping he was right in guessing that Draycos hadn't killed them. "Or Mr. Neverlin's hoppy-pop bodyguard there," he added. "How's your head, pal?"

The bandaged guard made a sound deep in his throat. "Easy, Jondo," Neverlin said. "You'll get your turn." "Yeah, it's always their turn, isn't it?" Jack said contemptuously.

"Bodyguards and Brummgas. You two ever do any of this stuff yourselves? Or do you always hide behind other people?"

Gazen took a step forward. "Listen, kid—"

"Stop it," Neverlin said. His voice was quiet, but there was something in his tone that brought Gazen to a sharp halt. "Don't let him goad you. He's finished, and he knows it."

"He doesn't think I'm finished," Jack said loftily. "He's still afraid of me.

If he wasn't, he wouldn't always be hiding behind his Brummgas. He's a coward; pure, simple, and unfrosted."

He cocked an eye toward the Brummgas in his line of sight. "You know, if I were you, I'd find a better boss to work for."

"Shut up," Gazen snarled.

"Make me," Jack challenged.

Gazen's glare shifted over Jack's shoulder. He sensed a slight movement behind him—

"I said stop," Neverlin snapped. "Are you insane, Gazen? We need him conscious to talk to his uncle."

"Oh, right," Jack said sarcastically. "I'm supposed to talk him into surrendering. Suppose I don't feel like doing that right now?"

"Then your friends outside will die," Neverlin said softly.

Jack gave him a smile he wasn't particularly feeling. "And you think I care?"

For a long minute Neverlin studied his face. Jack met the gaze evenly, his heart pounding in his chest. If they called his bluff—if Gazen started shooting the slaves out there—

"With all due respect, sir," the unbandaged bodyguard murmured, "I don't think we have time for this. Those Djinn-90s could be here any time."

"He has a point, Jack," Neverlin agreed. "We don't want your uncle getting himself killed in a firefight, now, do we?"

"I'm not going to tell him to surrender," Jack said stubbornly. "We've got time on our side. And you don't dare hurt me."

Neverlin shook his head. "For a clever boy, Jack, you have some amazing memory failures. Castan?"

The unbandaged bodyguard slid his gun back into its holster and pulled out a small, flat box. Opening it, he pulled out a hypospray. "The squatter poison,"

Neverlin identified it. "Remember?"

Jack pressed back against his captors, as if trying to cringe away from the hypospray. One of the Brummgas tightened his grip on his arm—

"Ow!" Jack gasped, as if it had really hurt.

"Don't hurt him!" Neverlin snapped.

"I didn't," the Brummga protested, sounding bewildered. "I just—"

Jack hissed again in imaginary pain. "Stop it," Gazen ordered. "You heard Mr.

Neverlin."

"Back off him," Neverlin said. "Just back off."

Reluctantly but obediently, the Brummgas let go of Jack's arms and shuffled a step backward. "Last chance, Jack," Neverlin said. "One way or another, you're going to cooperate."

Jack took a deep breath, straightening as tall as he could. "I don't cooperate with losers," he said.

Neverlin shook his head. "You young fool," he said softly. "Do it, Castan."

The bodyguard started forward again, shifting the hypospray into working position in his hand. Jack hunched down, raising his fists into a boxer's stance. "You keep away from me," he said tightly. "You hear?"

"This is ridiculous," Neverlin said, the smooth coating of his voice cracking with exasperation. "Jondo, go and hold him."

"Yes, sir," the bandaged bodyguard said, taking a couple of quick steps to catch up with his partner, his gun pointed squarely at Jack's stomach. Side by side, the two men approached, the Brummgas backing off another step as they approached.

"Very good, Jack," Draycos murmured.

"You're welcome," Jack murmured back, smiling in satisfaction.

Because now, instead of there being two armed men out of easy reach at the far end of the room, the whole group of enemies were nicely clustered together.

"There you go, buddy," he added as Jondo and Castan stepped up to him. "Have a

good time."

And with a K'da battle scream, Draycos burst from the front of his shirt.

He took out the two bodyguards first, one forepaw slapping hard against their heads in a quick one-two punch. Twisting in midair, he caught Castan in the chest with his rear paws and shoved off him to reverse direction. Almost as an afterthought, his flicking tail sent Jondo's gun sailing across the room to bounce off the side wall.

Jack dropped into a low crouch. He'd had a vague plan of slipping out of the center of the fight and trying to get one of the bodyguards' guns so he could give Draycos some help.

But there was no need for a plan. Draycos was way beyond any need of help.

Once before, Jack had seen his new partner in combat, fighting a group of scavenger heenas in the Vagran Colony Spaceport. He had thought then that he was seeing the dragon at his full potential.

He'd been wrong. He'd been terrifyingly wrong.

It was as if someone had dropped a black-scaled threshing machine on top of the Brummgas. Draycos was everywhere, leaping and diving and twisting across their heads and shoulders like an insane cat on hot metal. He never seemed to touch the same Brummga more than once. But each time he did, his claws slashed, or his paws slammed, or his tail whipped.

And when the Brummga fell, he didn't get up again.

They never had a chance. This kind of fighting wasn't in any of their training manuals, and there was no time to improvise. Drawn slapsticks were knocked aside; hastily drawn guns were ducked beneath.